


An Ideal Marriage

by CaptainoftheUSSTardis



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Downton Abbey, Downton Abbey AU, F/M, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 71,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainoftheUSSTardis/pseuds/CaptainoftheUSSTardis
Summary: (Downton Abbey AU) Adam Savoy is the sole heir of the Earl of Villeneuve, living a lavish life of spending and gambling. But where he goes, scandal always follows. After a way of paying off Adam’s spending sinks with the Titanic, the Earl orders Adam back to their country estate and marry an eligible girl from a good family as soon as possible, lest he loses his inheritance.Belle Deveraux lives a modest life with her father in a small village in Kent. Longing for more than the life of a farm hand, she accepts a job as a housemaid at the village’s big house, Theron Hall, home to the Earl of Villeneuve and his son, to save up enough money to see galleries, universities, and libraries.When the two meet accidentally, Adam becomes immediately intrigued with the woman who loves Theron’s library as much as he does. But he knows that a relationship between them would not be taken well by society, and least of all by his father. Belle tries to avoid the handsome heir’s advances at first, as she knows that any sort of romance would never be a success. Nevertheless, the two are drawn towards each other - despite the world of obstacles that would prevent them from being together.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers! Thank you so much for checking out this fic! It's my first one in a while, and I'm very excited to share it.
> 
> Just a warning: I am in no way an expert on London or England or the time period, so if there are any inaccuracies about the areas of London, or villages, or anything like that, I'm sorry. Comments correcting these inaccuracies are appreciated. Furthermore, there are original minor characters like some of the servants or Adam's family/acquaintances that I added that aren't in the movie for plot reasons. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

_London_

_April 1912_

* * *

 “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Adam Savoy turned from the bar at the sound of the airy voice behind him. The question was a peculiar one, as if the woman asking it was an old nanny or one of his aunts ready to scold him like he was a child. There was a flirtatious tone in the woman’s voice, to be sure, but the question still struck a chord. He _did_ , in fact have somewhere else to be. Not because he actually _wanted_ to be there, but because of an obligation to be there. And he hated obligation. It was, in fact, his father’s birthday, and he’d said he be back in time for dinner… but time passed so quickly, and _blast it,_ he’d forgotten his pocket watch. _What a pity._  

Even in the dimly-lit basement club in which he was currently nursing his third glass of scotch, so far below where a man of his position should be, Adam felt a sense of comfort knowing his being here would spite his father. It was far from the lavishness and splendor of his life in England’s high society, and only a month ago he would have laughed at the prospect of attending a low-brow party such as this, but he had started doing it more and more, just because he knew his father hated it. Whether he actually enjoyed himself, that was another question entirely. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t dread the verbal lashings he received from his father the mornings after. Some days, if he was lucky, his father wouldn’t care enough tell him once again that he’d bring the estate and the earldom in ruin all on his own.

The parties he usually attended were at places like the Ritz and the luxurious townhomes in Belgrave Square filled with many other rebellious children of England’s peers, but gossip was rampant – and the wealthy adolescents were all too keen to catch you in a compromising position just to hold it against you. No, in places this, Adam was in control. The patrons were _his_ to manipulate if he so wished.

Of course, if the papers ever found out that the only son of the Earl of Villeneuve frequented dodgy clubs in even dodgier parts of London, it would engulf the family in scandal which they (or least, his _father_ ) would never recover from. Perhaps that was a consolation all on its own. But it wasn’t the first time he’d been on the verge of such a scandal. In fact, his father had paid off countless papers to not publish the stories of Adam’s busy nightlife, though it was more to save the Earl’s reputation more than it ever was to save his.

Adam downed the rest of the subpar scotch (though the barkeep had promised it was the most expensive scotch they carried) before focusing on the woman now taking a seat at the bar beside him. He didn’t bother gazing around the room for the lady’s escort; she wouldn’t have one. _Another perk of low-brow clubs._ He didn’t recognize the woman, which was surprising since he’d spent the past hour dancing with every woman in the club, whether they had male companions or not. The woman was young, perhaps twenty or twenty-one, and dressed in a deep green gown two years out of fashion, though her hairstyle more of the times. She had a small mouth and nose, but dark eyes which Adam couldn’t make out the proper shade because of the club’s lighting. He smelt the faintest bit of perfume from her, and an expensive one at that. It smelt exactly like the perfume his aunt used (though his aunt always seemed to douse the whole bottle on her person before coming down to dinner). Adam entertained the thought that the woman next to him was in fact a lady, the daughter of a marquess or a viscount or the like, trying to keep her identity a secret by the out-of-date fashion.

“Why do you say that?” Adam finally replied, intrigued by the woman.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “An educated guess,” she said, smiling devilishly. She then snuck a quick gaze at his hand, and he realized what she was staring at. Adam didn’t bother trying to hide the signet ring around his finger. It displayed his family’s coat of arms, the same coat of arms that his family proudly wore dating back to the Wars of the Roses.

“Nowhere of particular importance,” Adam said with a rather flirtatious smile. He allowed himself an inwardly gleeful moment as he thought of his father celebrating his birthday with his aunts in the dining room at Savoy House while he attended a party all on his own. He wondered if his father cared at all if he wasn’t there, but judging his insistence to attend that morning, Adam decided that his absence would greatly spite his father, his family, and the many other guests attending the dinner. Ot perhaps his father didn’t _really_ care whether Adam attended the dinner, only that if he didn’t it would be an embarrassment to the Earl. Adam smirked to himself. Why would he want to be at dinner with his family if he knew his father would carry on about how well his cousins are doing, and how Adam had _once again_ acted in a way that disgraced the family. Even that wasn’t worth the food, or the wine.

The woman’s thin eyebrows raised in a look of slight astonishment. “I suspect the owner of that ring wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he replied, inching slightly closer.

“So, what are you, then?” the woman asked. “A footman who’s stolen from his lord to make some extra money, but is having second thoughts?”

Adam laughed at the woman’s scenario. He couldn’t even imagine himself as a footman, waiting on people every day. To him, it wasn’t much of a life. “Nothing could be further from the truth,” he replied. He reached out for her hand on the bar counter, grasping it firmly in his. It was cold, like she just entered the warmth of the club from the April night air and hadn’t been wearing any gloves. The woman recoiled against his touch, not expecting such a sudden move, but didn’t pull away completely.

He quickly glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the bar counter. It was almost too dark to read clearly, but he could make out that it was about a quarter to eleven. The women his father invited to the dinner would be going through to the drawing room about now, and the men would be staying behind to drink port and smoke. Adam didn’t – _couldn’t_ – go back home now, not while his father was still awake. Though Adam was sure his father wouldn’t subject him to a verbal lashing while guests were at the house, he’d rather not take that chance.

“Let’s go to a _real_ party,” Adam said slyly, in a smooth voice as soft as a whisper. The woman’s eyebrows raised, as if taken aback by the idea. He left a 10 pound note on the bar counter and stood, not intending to wait for an answer, because he knew she would follow. Why wouldn’t she? She was obviously intrigued by him, and he just needed at little more time out to ensure that upon his arrival at Savoy House his father would be asleep – or at least gone up to his room and was too tired to pay his son any attention.

He was nearly up the flight of creaky wooden stairs leading to the London streets when he heard the sound of the woman’s shoes quickly tapping against the wood. He smirked to himself again.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked.

Adam only continued up the stairs and into the dark streets. There were few motors driving on the street in front of the club at this time of the night, but there were more just to the left, at the main road. Well, calling it a _main road_ was a bit of a stretch. It was busier than the street where the club was situated, but nowhere as busy as the hustle of Piccadilly or the Mall. The air was significantly less hot and stuffy outside than in the club, sending shivers up his arms. He looked back at the woman, who was pulling a shawl around her.

As he reached the intersection, Adam hailed down a passing taxi and hopped into the back seat. The woman, whom he’d almost forgotten about, quickly stepped up into the motor beside him, looking a little peevish. Adam ignored the look. “Where to?” the cabbie asked. The scent of cigarette smoke wafted from the front. Even though he’d grown up around his father smoking in his presence, he still couldn’t get used to the smell, and crinkled his nose in disgust.

“Belgrave Square.” Adam said haughtily.

“So you _are_ well-connected,” the woman commented. “Is there anything else I should know about you? A massive inheritance perhaps? Friends in high places? Or just an uppity-business man coming into the world of the _nouveaux-riches_?”

“Do you insist on insulting me?” Adam asked. His tone was rather playful, but he was truly offended that anyone would think him a _nouveau-riche._ Even in that club, he sat straighter than the rest of the patrons, he carried himself with grace and confidence, and not to mention his black-tie tuxedo had been freshly pressed that morning. The rest of the men wore wrinkled suits, ill-fitting suits, or the bare-minimum of what could be considered black-tie.

“I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re a hard man to read,” the woman said. She didn’t sound taken aback by Adam’s words.

“I consider that a very useful quality,” he replied, gazing out the taxi’s window to make sure the cabbie was using the shortest route. Sometimes they liked to cheat their customers by taking longer routes, and Adam would have none of it. So far, the route was satisfactory.

“What? Not being easily read?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, getting rather annoyed. “I shouldn’t want to be so easily read that another could tell me my life’s story just by a single glance. How terrible would that be?”

The woman shrugged. “Depends on your life’s story.”

Adam didn’t reply. He didn’t _want_ to reply to that. She didn’t know anything about him, and he didn’t know anything about her. Except that her style of dress would have been much better suited in the previous decade.

The rest of the taxi ride was spent in silence, and when they finally pulled into Belgrave Square, Adam tossed a bank note at the cabbie and exited the cigarette-scented motor onto the streets. Thankfully, his chap’s house wasn’t a long walk from where the cabbie left them. The woman walked slightly behind him, and he could tell she was trying to keep up with his pace. “Have you ever been to Belgrave Square before?” he asked, gazing ever so slightly at her. She didn’t seem amazed or wonderstruck at the expansive townhomes as one would be if they were from a lower class. Perhaps she truly _was_ a lady of a noble family, or a maid of one.

“No,” the woman replied. “But I’ve been Mayfair many times.”

Adam’s eyebrows raised, though he tried to curve his surprise.

“My family stays there for the Season.”

“Do they really?” He asked, somewhat rhetorically. Even in his curiosity, he didn’t press any further. He would leave that until later in the night. “Ah, here we are.” Adam approached the front door of a townhome on the corner of the square, its windows a glowing with light. He used the gilded door knocker, and almost immediately a tall man with dark eyes and darker hair with streaks of grey opened the door. Upbeat music and loud chatter rushed up to greet him, but the butler in front of him was less than impressed.

“I thought you’d be at your father’s birthday dinner, Mr. Adam,” he drawled, practically barricading the entrance to the house. Beyond the door, at least twenty young men and women laughed, danced, and drank. No doubt a round of poker was taking place in one of the rooms, which Adam intended to play in. The scene was a stark comparison to the club from which he’d just come. The townhome at Belgrave Square was brighter, cleaner, and otherwise occupied with people more fitting to a man of his station (though his father would prefer it if he didn’t associate with them at all). _“Why can’t you be more like your cousins?”_ he would shout, frustrated about covering up yet another scandal. _“These schemes of yours only hurt this family’s reputation. How will Theresa or Elizabeth find suitable husbands with you carrying on with every woman you lay eyes on?”_ He tried not to let it bother him. He _was_ as good as his oh-so-perfect cousins, but just not in the way his father wanted.  

“None of your business, Wallis,” Adam replied rather sharply. He knew the grumpy butler didn’t really care about whether he attended his father’s dinner or not, only that where Adam went, scandal tended to follow. He intended to protect the house and the family who resided there from him, but Adam had promised to make the job as hard as possible.

“It’s _Watts,_ sir.”

“Adam!” A chipper voice rang from the foyer, sparing him from an argument with Watts. Edmund Lynn appeared from the crowd of guests, opening his arms to greet them. Though Adam had many, _many,_ acquaintances in London, Ned, the son and heir of the Viscount and Viscountess Uxbridge, was his closest. It was no coincidence that Ned’s party and his father’s dinner were scheduled for the same day.

“I was beginning to think you were not coming,” he said, putting his empty champagne flute on one of the footman’s trays. “Oh, Watts, let them in, you old sod.”

The butler bowed his head a little, moving away from the door. “Of course, Mr. Edmund,” he said, glaring deeply at the grinning Adam before exiting the foyer into an adjoining room.

“That would be just like you,” Ned commented, gesturing for a footman to take the woman’s shawl. “To not show up after _I_ went through all the trouble to give you a reason to miss your father’s birthday.”

“Yes, well, I decided that it was time you and your guests were greeted with my presence.”

 “Quite right,” Ned laughed, and then turned to gaze at the woman beside him, clearly waiting for an introduction.

“Ah. This is Edmund Lynn. Ned this is…”

“Agathe Townsend,” the woman replied for him. The two gently shook hands, and Ned flashed her a bright smile. He wasn’t a particularly tall man (a characteristic that he _adored_ to complain about), but his charm made up for the lack of height. He stood about half-a-head below Adam, yet commanded a strong presence over the home and its guests. He was dressed in black-tie, identical to Adam and he rest of the male guests, his auburn hair combed to the side.

“Townsend…” Ned thought pensively. “As in the Ainsley’s?”

“Yes,” Miss Townsend replied brightly. The name had caught Adam by surprise, as well. The Earl and Countess of Ainsley were notable figures in England’s peerage, though he’d only met them once, at his cousin’s Season.

“I thought the Ainsley’s only had two sons,” Adam remarked, however, he didn’t _think_ it. He _knew_ it.

“They do,” Miss Townsend replied, “I am a cousin of theirs.”

“Of course, you are,” Adam said, smiling, though his tone had the slightest hint of sarcasm. It was possible, of course that she could be a relation of Lord and Lady Ainsley, but he had a strong feeling there was more to this Miss Townsend than what she was revealing.

Adam turned back to Ned. “I need something good to drink. I’ve been drinking piss-poor scotch for the past hour.”

Ned laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Oh dear, we must fix that. What ghastly business did you get up to?”

“Drowning my sorrows in a club that your mother would faint upon hearing I’d been there. That’s where I met Miss Townsend, here.”

“Well, that begs the question: what would a member of the Townsend family be doing in such a place?”

Miss Townsend smiled, albeit, a bit nervously. Ned offered her a flute of champagne from a passing footman, and she took it gratefully. “And can I get a glass of port for Mr. Savoy?” Ned asked the footman, who uttered a

“Yes, sir,” and scurried off.

“Can’t a girl get away from the life of high society?” She smiled with more confidence this time.

Adam shrugged. “I suspect they _can,_ but would they want to?”

“Why were _you_ in a club in the back-water streets of London?” Ned countered. Miss Townsend raised her flute in agreement, making Adam roll his eyes. They were ganging up on him.

“You know bloody-well why,” he snapped, a bit harsher than intended, but frustrated all the same.

Ned held his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Forget I asked.”

The footman returned with a glass of port on a silver tray, and Adam took it eagerly. “Cards?” he asked after taking a large swig of the drink. He didn’t know how others did it, when all they had access to was cheap alcohol. How horrid for them.

“Yes, of course, in the smoking room,” Ned nodded.

Drink in hand, Adam marched through the throng of guests, one almost spilling champagne on his suit, to the dark room. It had no windows, and the walls were lined in deep crimson velvet. Around a polished table sat five men, only one of whom Adam recognized. He couldn’t remember his name, only that they’d met in Yorkshire for some shoot or hunt or another. He’d spent most of that trip indoors.

Adam played in the next round, and then two more rounds after that, his money constantly fluctuating. By the end of it, he’d lost a hundred pounds to a Mr. Nicholas Bradley, who had come as a friend of the daughter of some duke or marquess. He made a mental note to challenge him again soon. It wasn’t the loss of the money that bothered him, but rather the damage done to his pride.

By then it was almost one in the morning, and Adam decided that his father would be long asleep so he could enter Savoy House unseen. After saying a quick goodbye to Ned, Miss Townsend rushed towards him just as he was about to exit the townhome looking quite distressed.

“Mr. Savoy!” Adam stopped, more than a little annoyed. “I didn’t realize how late it had become and I’m afraid I must return to Mayfair immediately.”

Adam stared blankly at the woman. _What did this have to do with him?_ When he didn’t offer anything in response, she continued. “Can you offer me a ride home?”

He let out a laugh, taking the woman aback. “Why?” he asked, as if the answer were obvious. When it was clear the answer was not obvious to Miss Townsend, Adam sighed and continued. “My home is at St. James’s Square, and Mayfair is not close at all, and I’m afraid I must return as soon as possible as well.” The statement wasn’t completely true. While it would be an inconvenience to drop Miss Townsend off at Mayfair first, he didn’t really need to be back at Savoy House right this minute. He, however, did want to leave.

“Please,” she was practically begging, for all the good it would do.

“You said you’re staying with Lord and Lady Ainsley,” he said matter-of-factly. “Wouldn’t someone staying with people such as them have enough money to hire their own taxi?”

“I didn’t anticipate coming this far from the club.”

“Even so.” When Miss Townsend didn’t say anything in response.

Adam smiled devilishly. “Or perhaps you don’t have enough money because you are _not_ a cousin of Lord and Lady Ainsley.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “Your out-of-fashion and ill-tailored dress speaks for itself, and your perfume,” he moved closer to the woman, so close that his nose was at the crook of her neck. “It’s not a scent popular with young ladies, but older women. I know, my aunt wears the same scent. What are you then? A lady’s maid to the Countess of Ainsley? Did you steal a dress from the back of her wardrobe, thinking she wouldn’t notice?”

Her eyes started to shine with tears, and it was all the reply he needed. “Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I must get back or Lady Ainsley will sack me.”

“Goodnight, Miss _Townsend,_ ” Adam bowed sarcastically, and turned on his heels into the night, leaving the sparkling townhome and its guests behind.

* * *

Adam woke with a start the next morning. Light suddenly streamed into his room, and he grabbed one of his pillows to throw at the person causing such a disruption. The pillow landed against _something,_ but he didn’t make the effort to see where it landed.

“ _Sir,_ ” a voice, his valet said. “Lord Villeneuve requests your presence in the breakfast room immediately.”

“Oh, does he? Lucky me,” Adam said, though it only came out as a mumble. His face was pressed against his pillow, as if it would make everything go away.

“He was adamant,” the valet said. Adam rolled his eyes. “When is he _not_ adamant about lecturing me about how I could be more like the rest of the family?”

“It is different, sir. There was grave news in the papers.”

Sighing, Adam slowly rose from the bed to let his valet dress him. He was still in his suit from the previous night, with the exception of the black bow tie that was laid on the back of a chair. He was quickly dressed in more suitable attire for breakfast, and after insisting his valet take a long as possible (he changed his mind about his cufflinks several times), he made his way downstairs to the breakfast room.

Lord Charles Villeneuve, a tall, imposing man, was seated at the head of the table, thoroughly engaged in the paper. He didn’t acknowledge Adam when he entered the bright room, or when he dished himself breakfast from trays laid out. But when he sat down at the opposite end of the table, his father tossed him the paper in frustration.

“What are you on about?” Adam asked, taking the paper in his hands. It was still warm from its ironing.

“Front page,” his father replied, as if the answer were obvious. Adam looked down at the paper.

Titanic _sinks four hours after hitting iceberg on her maiden voyage. 1,500 lives presumed lost._

“Good god,” Adam breathed. He couldn’t deny he’d taken an interest in the ship when the voyage was announced. It was the grandest vessel of its day and now… gone. He wondered if anyone he knew was on the passengers list. But if they were, they’d most be safe if they rescued first class before anyone else. Still, he didn’t see what his father was so upset about. Then again, he could get upset at anything and it wouldn’t surprise him.

“What does this have to do with us?” Adam asked.

“Don’t you _see?_ ” his father raised his voice. “There were several pieces of art I had put on that ship to be sold in America, all to pay off _your_ spending and gambling. They were worth tens of thousands of pounds! And now they’re at the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“Just sell some more,” Adam said nonchalantly, trying to deflect the blame off him. “It’s not like we’re short on art-”

_“No!”_ His father stood from his seat. “I will not sell any more of our possessions to regain _your_ losses. I have had enough. You will move back to Theron Hall immediately and marry a suitable woman.”

Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. _Live in the country? Marry?_ “Father-”

“No more parties, no more gambling. The estate was already at risk because of you, and now even more so.”

“You can’t make me,” Adam glared.

“Yes, I can. Who will fund your habits when you have no money? Because I certainly won’t give you any. How will pay for your clothes? Your alcohol? Your gambling?”

“You wouldn’t-”

“And not only that. If continue as you are, I’ll make sure you _never_ become the Earl of Villeneuve. The entire fortune, estate, and title will go to my next heir.”

“There are no other heirs, I’m your only son. You have three sisters who can’t inherit,” Adam’s mouth was agape in anger and frustration. _How dare he threaten to disown him_. But deep down, though he didn’t want to admit it even to himself, he wasn’t surprised.

“I took the liberty of consulting the family tree with Davies and found a third cousin who is fit to inherit,” his father said. Adam couldn’t believe this. His father had _actively_ searched for a new heir to the estate and earldom with their solicitor.

“He’s an accountant in Manchester. He’d do very well for the estate,” his father continued, which only served to infuriate Adam.

“You’d rather a _middle-class_ accountant from Manchester inherit the estate and title than your _own son?_ ” Adam practically snarled. His fists were clenched into tight balls, and he felt as if he would throw his china plate across the room.

“Yes, I would. If _my son_ continues as he is now, he will not inherit anything.”

For once, Adam didn’t have a witty response or a snide remark. The only thing he knew was that his whole life had be threatened, his present and future. He was nothing without his family’s wealth and position.

“You better start packing your things,” his father’s deep glare was back, seeming to pierce his heart. “You take the train back to Theron today.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Thank you so much for the wonderful support and for your lovely words! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it. I've only just started writing the third chapter, so the update time between this chapter and the next might be a little longer, so sorry about that! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

_Kent_

_September 1912_

* * *

Though Belle Deveraux had lived in the country for as long as she could remember, she’d never grown accustomed to country life. She longed for the sweeping and busy cities she read about in her novels, where there were always new people to meet, and new places to see.

In the small village of Chartham, Kent, it was as if the same day had been on repeat for the past five years. Every morning, Belle would walk the short distance from her and her father’s cottage to the bakery, then run any other errands, and finally walk to the small church where the village’s tiny collection of books was kept. Even if she didn’t need to borrow another, the conversations she shared with Father Robert were just as wonderful.

Smiling as the small stone church came into view, her pace quickened, and she was already thinking about what book she would borrow next. Father Robert was dusting one of the stained-glass windows when she entered the drafty church, but at the sound of the door he turned and smiled brightly.

“Good morning, Miss Deveraux,” he chirped, climbing down from the small wooden ladder he was perched on. “Good morning!” she replied, giving him a smile in return and then making a beeline for the books. “Borrowing a new book already?” Father Robert chuckled, leaning against the long wooden duster he had been using.

“I couldn’t put it down. You know it’s my favourite,” she said.  “Oh, what I would give to see _Romeo and Juliet_ performed on stage, or better yet, travel to fair Verona itself!” Belle sighed, and imagined being at Royal Albert Hall in London, watching at Romeo performed his soliloquy below Juliet’s balcony. But that fantasy was a long way off. While she and her father did well for themselves at their little cottage, raising chickens, and growing vegetables, they never had enough money travel great distances. Her father occasionally took the train to the larger cities in Kent – or even London if he was lucky – to sell his music boxes, but he never let Belle come, no what how much she asked. As a consolation however, he never failed to bring back a red rose for her; her favourite flower.

“With a job at the big house, you might be able to,” Father Robert said. “Have you received an answer yet?”

Belle shook her head. It was only a few days ago when she’d done an interview at Theron Hall, the expansive estate of the Earl of Villeneuve, in hopes of becoming a housemaid. It wasn’t a glamourous job, but it was a job in which she would earn more than what she was now making selling vegetables. She’d have to move to the big house, away from her father, but that would mean he wouldn’t have to pay for her living, saving them more money. It had taken him quite a lot of convincing after she’d surprised him that she’d applied for the position at all, but he eventually came around.

“Well, they would be lucky to have you,” the priest said. “Thank you,” Belle replied, placing the worn copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ on a small wooden table. “Do you have anything new?” she asked, skimming the small collection of books. The village had no library, and there were only twenty books in the church’s collection, though Father Robert did receive new ones from time to time.

“I’m afraid not,” Father Robert said regrettably. “But you may borrow any one of the others.” Belle tried to hide her disappointment, but was grateful all the same that he let her borrow the books, as no one else did. It seemed almost criminal to her, that the books sat on the table only collecting dust, when they would be much more useful in the hands of eager readers wanting to be transported away from the tiny, uneventful village. That was why Belle wanted to seek employment at the big house, so she could travel to all the places she read about, to see the vast libraries of great universities, to have an adventure. None of these could be accomplished by simply farming in Chartham.

Belle picked _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ from the collection and hugged it slightly against her chest. “Thank you,” she said, as she did every time she borrowed one of Father Robert’s books. He smiled warmly, and gave a slight bow from the waist. “Have a pleasant day, Miss Deveraux.”

“Good bye,” she replied, stepping out into the cooling autumn air. Belle slipped the book into a pocked she’d sewn into her skirts and pulled her jacket tightly around her shoulders. It wasn’t terribly cold that morning, but the breeze certainly made it seem that way. Still, the villagers were out and about, farming winter vegetables, harking their products, or simply running errands as Belle was doing. A few women were gathered at the small memorial dedicated to those who had perished on board the _Titanic_ five months earlier. There weren’t many from their small village on board the massive ocean liner, but enough families petitioned the village hospital to hold a fundraiser for the memorial. Belle could almost imagine how the mourners were feeling; grieving over loved ones with no bodies to put to rest. Her own mother had died when she was very young, but there was no body, nor grave, nor memorial to remember her by; only her father’s sketches and seldom-told stories.

Belle quickened her pace, eager to return home. And eager to avoid the courting attempts of Gaston Leroux, a vain young man who had this odd fixation with her. However many times she expressed her disinterest in a courtship, he simply returned the next day as if her words had been forgotten. He was loved, much to Belle’s surprise, by all the other young women of the village but he hardly returned the favour. It was true there was a certain charisma about the young man (he held the rank of captain in the army) that the villagers couldn’t help but be fixated on, but he was terribly vain and arrogant to think she’d accept him eventually. He would never make her happy, and nor she him. And not only that, Belle had no interest to marry at present. She had too much to do, and too much to see.

“Good morning, Belle!” An all-too familiar and deep voice rang out through the streets. Belle stopped in her tracks, and inwardly groaned. She turned to the man smiling radiantly and holding a bouquet of flowers. “Good morning,” she replied as politely as she could, trying to hide the annoyance in her tone. She was finding it very difficult.

As one would typically hand flowers to another gently, Gaston instead thrust the bouquet at her. “For your dinner table,” he said. “May I join you this evening?”

Belle gave a pathetic half-smile, desperately trying not to roll her eyes at his self-invitation. “Not tonight,” she said, and walked away from him. _Just this once, please leave me alone._ But of course, the young man continued to make an effort.

“Have you gotten a reply from the big house yet?” he asked. With her back to him, she opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted. “Because if we married you wouldn’t have to work. You could stay at home raising our children.” Belle didn’t know whether to laugh or gag at the prospect of raising Gaston’s children.

Finally, having enough of being followed halfway across the village, she stopped and looked at him. “Mr. Leroux, I’m sure there are plenty of other women who would love that life. But it’s not for me, so please, stop asking.” Without giving him time to respond, Belle picked up her skirts and ran back towards her cottage, ignoring Gaston’s pleas for her to stop.

When Belle finally arrived, she found her father at his work desk, tinkering with the gears of an intricate music box. He was humming to himself, the tune sounding like a peaceful lullaby, and Belle couldn’t help but stop and listen. Her father was always tinkering with gears and cogs, and would make the most beautiful creations. He’d taught her his art when she was young, and she’d picked it up through the years. He admitted that she was better at it than he was, though Belle doubted it.

He cleared his throat when he noticed she’d entered. Belle placed her borrowed book on a little wooden table beside her favourite reading chair, taking a view seconds to peak its first pages.

“The post came while you were out,” her father chimed, looking up from his work. Belle looked up from the book with a jolt. “A letter came for you,” he said as she approached the work table. “Addressed from the big house.”

Belle grinned widely and took the letter from her father. She desperately searched for the simple letter opener they always had hanging about, but soon her nervousness got the better of herself and she resorted to using her nails to open the envelope. Belle scanned the contents of the letter, perhaps a bit too quickly, and let out an excited cry.

“I got it!” she exclaimed, practically jumping for joy. “I’ve got the job! I can start next week, and use the weekend to get myself settled into the house!”

“I never had any doubt in you,” her father replied, though his smile faded slightly. Concerned, Belle took a seat beside her father. “What is it, Papa?”

“I just can’t bear the thought of you leaving to live in that monstrous house, all alone.”

“But I won’t be alone, Papa. Theron Hall has at least thirty other staff, probably more, and I’ll be able to visit you on my days off. I’m not confined to the walls of the big house.”

“I’ll miss you all the same.”

“And I you, but this job will be good. If I save up enough of my wages, I might be able to travel to London, or even beyond!”

Her father laughed gently, and kissed the top of her head. He continued to gaze at her, like he was remembering something. “You remind me so much of her,” he whispered, his eyes shining. Belle didn’t have to ask whom he was referring to. He practically told her the same thing every day. The short sentence revealed so much about Belle’s mother, and yet told her so little.

“She would be so proud of you, my girl.”

* * *

Sunday afternoon, Belle and her father rode to the big house together in their horse-drawn wagon. Though Belle had seen Theron Hall before, its size and elegance never ceased to amaze her. The grounds and gardens surrounding Theron were bright and colourful, and the house that sat in the middle was like one of the sprawling castles she read about in her novels. Too many windows to count, over one hundred rooms, and countless places to clean.

Viewing Theron as a new housemaid made a wave a nervousness wash over her suddenly, but she was also unbearably excited. She was very fortunate to work in a great house such as Theron, when so many struggled to find suitable employment.

“Can you believe you’ll be living here?” her father asked in amazement. Belle laughed lightly. “Don’t get too excited, Papa. I’m sure the servants’ quarters are much different than those belonging to the guests.”

After a heartfelt and somewhat tearful goodbye, Belle entered the back door into the servants’ hall. Young men and women rushed about in varying uniforms. Some of the women wore light blue dresses with stark white aprons and white bonnets, other wore plainer dresses (still with aprons), with their hair tied into tight knots at the nape of their necks. A few young men wore white tie, as they were more likely to be in the presence of the master of the household – the young son of the Earl of Villeneuve. While Mr. Adam (as she was instructed to address him) was not technically the master of Theron Hall, Lord Villeneuve seldom spent time in his family’s ancestral home, making his son a sort of proxy. She didn’t know much about the young aristocrat, only that he’d garnered quite the reputation for spending, gambling, and partying in London. But that had all been put to a stop ever since he moved back into Theron five months earlier, always keeping to himself. He never attended any village events, and Belle didn’t even think he left the inside of the house.

“Ah, Belle!” A chipper voice rang through the halls. She turned to see the housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, approaching her with a wide smile. Belle smiled in return. Mrs. Potts had been the one to interview her, with the butler, Cogsworth sitting silently beside her, so she was the only staff member she was familiar with.

“Welcome to Theron Hall. Why don’t I give you a quick tour of the servants’ hall, and then show you to your room.”

“Thank you,” Belle replied.

“The staff comprises of thirty-five members including myself and Cogsworth. More importantly for you to know, there are seven other housemaids. You’ve come at a rather unusual time, however, because Mr. Adam’s three aunts and their families will be staying later on in the week for a few days.”

“Mr. Adam doesn’t normally host for others?” Belle asked curiously. Mrs. Potts shook her head. “Lord Villeneuve often arranges for eligible women and their families to stay for a night or two, but a large family gathering such as this is quite rare.”

The housekeeper continued to guide Belle through the servants’ hall – her new home, she reminded herself – pointing out the dining hall (“We eat after Mr. Adam has finished his dinner.”), the kitchens, and the various other small and simple rooms to do tasks such as sewing, mending, or polishing. After, Mrs. Potts guided her up to the servants’ quarters.

Belle’s assigned room as plain, with white walls, two small beds, side tables with oil lamps, a chest of drawers, and a small wooden desk in the corner. The bed on the right had several maids’ uniforms laid out – a light blue dress like she’d seen the others wear, a black dress, and a grey dress, all with corresponding white aprons.

“You will be sharing a room with Plumette, the head housemaid. Tomorrow she will guide you throughout the house and how and where you’ll be cleaning,” Mrs. Potts explained. Belle nodded, setting her suitcase at the foot of the bed. “I’ll leave you to get settled, then. Plumette should be up soon to explain your duties in greater detail.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts,” she replied. Just as the housekeeper turned to leave, she stopped. “One more thing,” she said. “If you do enter a room and Mr. Adam or any of the guests are there, avert your eyes and wait for them to leave or instruct you otherwise. Mr. Adam typically keeps to himself, however, so I don’t suspect this being a problem.”

Belle nodded, with a somewhat anxious feeling settling in her stomach. It wasn’t so much at the prospect of running into the young aristocrat who employed her, but rather that her new surroundings and circumstances seemed to hit her all at once. She had thought, once that living and serving in the big house would be exciting, an adventure. And while Belle still felt that way, she now realized she knew nobody. Not any of the servants, or anyone else that could possibly become her friend.

Mrs. Potts seemed very kind and gentle of course, but Belle doubted she would become close friends with the housekeeper, as they would run in different circles every day, except perhaps during meals.

The older woman left the small room to let Belle settle in, and she finally sat the bed. She hadn’t realized how tired her feet were after climbing three flights to stairs to the servants’ quarters, which were located a floor above the main and guest apartments. It was odd to think that the future Earl of Villeneuve slept just below her, or that any of his wealthy guests did; that a single storey separated an immense class difference.

Belle shook off her nervousness and unpacked her clothes and put them neatly in the chest of drawers, took out a few of her father’s sketches, and placed the small picture of her family on the bedside table. It had been taken when she was still an infant, wrapped in her mother’s arms. It was one of the only tokens she had of her mother. She’d been told by her father that her mama was fearless, and now, Belle did her best to be the same.

* * *

Down in the servants’ hall, Plumette was enjoying some rare and well-deserved free time from her day’s work. She was drinking a warm cup of tea brewed by one of the kitchen maids and discussing Mr. Adam’s behaviour that day with Lumiere, the first footman and her sweetheart (though Cogsworth never failed to mention how inappropriate these relationships were between the staff). Mrs. Potts (much to Cogworth’s dismay), however, let them carry on, so long as they were not committing any _indecent_ behaviour, especially before marriage.

The footman had just come down from serving luncheon and was desperate to see his love again after enduring Mr. Adam’s continued grumpiness over his soon-to-be visiting relatives.

“He was the same as he’d been for the past week,” Lumiere grumbled, and aggressively buttered a piece of bread from the centre of the table. “I swear, if he could make his aunts stay in the pub for the duration of their visit, he would.”

“Lady Brankford wouldn’t stay in a pub even if Theron were on fire,” Plumette chuckled, taking another sip of her tea. While Mr. Adam’s aunts and their families seldom visited Theron Hall (they would typically gather at the Marquess and Marchioness of Brankford’s grander home), he (and the Theron staff) would nonetheless be expected to act as if they were hosting the King and Queen themselves. That’s what Cogsworth drilled into their minds since their first days at the big house. Both he and Mrs. Potts had been working here longer than anyone, since Mr. Adam was a child. They acted like Theron Hall was Buckingham Palace, though Mr. Adam never seemed to appreciate it.

And now that his relatives were visiting it only made him more insufferable. It meant more cleaning, more washing, more mending. The entire house had to be spotless, which was easy for Mr. Adam and Cosgworth to say. _They_ never had to do any of the work.

“Lord Brankford can stay in the pub, for all I care,” Lumiere said. “When is his Lordship going to invite more women to dinners here? At least _they_ are politer.”

“ _You’re_ not the one dressing them and mending their hats, love,” Plumette countered.

“Even so, the more ladies at dinner, the more likely Mr. Adam will marry, and the less likely _we_ will be out on the street.”

Plumette shook her head at Lumiere’s fantasy. Ever since Mr. Adam had made his return to Theron after the _Titanic_ disaster, he’d been worried at if the estate goes to some such distant cousin of the Villeneuves (and a _middle-class_ one at that), the new earl would assign new staff, or get rid of them all together. Or worse yet – _sell_ Theron Hall.

“You’re not talking ill about Mr. Adam’s guests, are you?” The housekeeper’s voice rang through the room, causing the two sweethearts to look up, startled.

“No, Mrs. Potts,” Lumiere replied quickly, earning a curt nod from the older woman. “Plumette, good, you’re on a break,” Mrs. Potts started. “The new housemaid, Belle, is up in your room. It would be nice if you could go up and introduce yourself.”

Plumette nodded, and after giving Lumiere’s hand a reassuring squeeze, left towards the room she shared with the new housemaid. The last one, Alice, a young girl no older than seventeen had left service to become a secretary. It had caused quite the stir downstairs – Cogsworth was appalled by the notion of a woman leaving the security of the big house, or that service was beneath the girl. She’d constantly repeated that she liked service, but she wanted to move on to something different. Mrs. Potts had supported her of course, and when she announced she’d been offered a job for some solicitor or another they’d even had a small farewell party for her.

Alice had only been at Theron for a few years, but she was kind and bright, and always confided in Plumette. It would be a lie to say that Plumette wasn’t disappointed when Alice left the house; she’d been a close friend, but she was glad the girl was pursuing her goals. It was rare to see that in service.

Now the head housemaid hoped Alice’s replacement would be equally friendly. Plumette knew she was from the village, so at least she would be familiar with the area. That was always useful whenever the kitchen maids were too busy to run errands in the village, so the maids were ordered to do them instead. But other than that, all Mrs. Potts ever said about the girl was that she was very nice, and charming, and determined.

Plumette hoped, rather selfishly, that this new girl would stay in service longer than Alice had. Lumiere was determined to be Theron’s butler in the future, and Plumette a lady’s maid to the Countess of Villeneuve if Mr. Adam ever _did_ marry, and she wanted a friend who was as passionate about service as she was.

Most would think it odd, to want to be a lady’s maid, but not for Plumette. She always volunteered to do any sewing or mending, and when guests came without ladies’ maids, Mrs. Potts always asked her to take care of them. She loved service, and hoped the girl now sharing her bedroom would love it as well.

* * *

“You must be the new housemaid.” The voice was gentle, but startled Belle all the same, knocking her from the thoughts of her mother. She turned to the doorway and found a young woman, not so much older than herself, dressed the light blue maid’s uniform she’d seen in the servants’ hall.

Belle stood, and gave a bright smile. “Yes. Belle Deveraux,” she said, extending her hand for the other maid to shake. “Plumette,” the woman smiled back and graciously accepted the shake. “Welcome to Theron, I hope you’re not too intimidated.”

“Perhaps a little, but excited as well,” Belle replied. “I’ve never worked in a house such as this.”

“You’ll get the routine soon enough. But I’m sure Mrs. Potts informed you that Mr. Adam’s relatives are visiting later this week, so the workload is heavier than usual.”

“Yes, she did say that,” Belle said, wondering who would warrant such an increase in the workload. It wasn’t as if they were entertaining the King himself. “Who are these relatives, exactly?”

“His Lordship’s – that is – the earl’s three sisters and their families,” Plumette explained. “The Marquess and Marchioness of Brankford and their three children; Sir Frederick Donovan and Lady Anna Donovan and their two daughters; and finally, the Viscount and Viscountess Sutton with their two children.”

Belle’s eyebrows raised. “My, what a party,” she said.

“Quite,” Plumette replied. “It also means more staff in the house what with the women’s ladies’ maids and the men’s valets, so the servants hall will get more crowded than usual.”

Plumette obviously noticed the look of intimidation on Belle’s face, because she inched closer to her, like a sister would. “Don’t worry,” she said, smiling. “You still have a few days yet to get into the thick of things. And I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher.”

Belle could help but smile. There was a certain warmth about her, it made her feel like Theron truly could be a new home.

* * *

Over the next few days, Plumette was ever so helpful in showing Belle the daily routine of a Theron housemaid. Wake up at six thirty in the morning, have breakfast, draw the curtains in the drawing rooms, fluff the pillows, sweep ashes away from the previous night, and then get the breakfast room ready for Mr. Adam. That was before he came down from his room. During his breakfast, they were required to strip the sheets from Mr. Adam’s bed and replace them, and repeat this action for all the other bedrooms in the house (even when none of them were in use).

If Belle thought Theron Hall were very grand from the outside, it was even more so indoors. Everytime Plumette showed her a new room, she was constantly in awe of its beauty and elegance. The bedrooms were all filled with large four-poster beds, crystal decanters, and the finest oak furniture she’d ever laid eyes on. Just past the main entrance of the house opened to a large parlour with a gallery from above. White columns lined the upstairs gallery, with arches and the most exquisite architecture.

On it went, to the grand dining room, the small dining room, the breakfast room, and several drawing rooms, each one seemingly more opulent than the next. It was almost like out of a fairy tale.

Belle had never worked so hard in her life, but the experience of working in a grand house such as Theron also seemed to appease her frustrations, knowing that she was fortunate enough to be a maid and that after a few years she would be able to travel to London, at least. Plumette had become a quick friend, much to Belle’s pleasure, taking her time with explanations and giving her wisdom from her years at Theron. When Belle had expressed her desire to travel, Plumette had said that some of the maids are able to go to London to work at Savoy House, The Villeneuve residence at St. James’s Square, during the Season.

“Oh, how lovely that would be!” Belle had exclaimed while tucking fresh sheets under Mr. Adam’s mattress on the second morning of her employment. His room was different than the others, and Belle couldn’t shake off this feeling that she was somehow invading his privacy by being there, even though it was her job. The room was larger than those of the guests (but not larger than the seldom-used master bedroom), with two crystal chandeliers hanging from carved ceiling. A small balcony was situated at the far end of the room, just to the right of the four-poster bed. It was a stark comparison to the servants’ rooms.

“Do the staff get a few hours off? I would love to see the galleries, and universities, the theatre…”

Plumette giggled at Belle’s ambition, and admired her for it. “The staff usually gets some time off during the week, when His Lordship and Mr. Adam are attending parties elsewhere, but I’m afraid a staff outings are not as glamourous as your imaginings. Typically a walk in Hyde Park.”

“Hyde Park sounds lovely, and perhaps I can save enough money to see a gallery, and convince Cogsworth to let me go,” Belle said, making Plumette laugh at her persistence. “Well, you must promise to take me with you!”

“It would be an honour, _my lady_ ,” Belle curtsied playfully, Mr. Adam’s pillow in hand. Plumette laughed again, but her smile dropped slightly.

“What is it?” Belle asked.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Plumette started, “but I don’t know if we’ll able to attend the Season.”

“Why not?”

“I shouldn’t really be saying this… but, Mr. Adam isn’t allowed to travel anymore because he had been spending too much money.”

Belle’s heart couldn’t help but drop at the thought of not being able to travel to London with the other staff, but at the same time she was intrigued by her new employer. She’d heard of his reputation for partying, the whole village did, but she never knew the circumstances of his sudden return to Theron months ago. The Earl most likely wanted to keep it within the family.

Now, as the staff sat around the long wooden table in the servants’ hall eating their dinner, Belle found herself wondering how long she’d have to work at Theron before earning enough to travel. She liked working at Theron, so far (it was nicer than being a farm hand to be sure), but she wasn’t sure if Theron would be her _future._

Belle snapped out of her thoughts as Cogsworth cleared his throat. The table became silent save for the scratching of cutlery against the ceramic bowls. “As you all know,” his baritone voice rumbled, “Mr. Adam’s relatives are arriving tomorrow morning. You will all be required to greet the guests outside the main entrance when they arrive at eleven o’clock, sharp. They will be staying for five days and a hunt is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I expect this house to be comparable to Buckingham.”

Some of the staff groaned quietly at Cogsworth’s words, as if it was something he preached on a daily basis.

Beside her, Plumette glanced at Mrs. Potts and raised her hand slightly. The housekeeper smiled, obviously knowing what the young housemaid was going to ask.

“Yes, Plumette,” she said. “You will be taking care of Lady Theresa and Miss Donovan.”

“Thank you,” Plumette replied gratefully. Belle gave a confused look to her friend. “Lady Theresa is the daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Brankford, and Miss Elizabeth Donovan is the daughter of Lady Anna and Sir Frederick Donovan,” Plumette supplied.

“I’ll need to consult a family tree to remember all of Mr. Adam’s relatives,” Belle said with a chuckle.

“I shouldn’t worry,” one of the other footmen, a boy with light blonde hair no older than eighteen by the name of Percy, chimed in. “All we need to do is serve and clean and say ‘yes, my lady,’ or ‘no, sir’. They never come down to the servants’ hall, either. They can never be bothered.”

“Fine for me as long as Lord Brankford does not call me a fool, like he did the last time,” Lumiere said while shoving a spoonful of beef stew in his mouth.

Plumette put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “You are not a fool, love,” she told him, almost in a hushed tone. “And your intelligence cannot possibly be judged by Lord Brankford, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“I do love you,” Lumiere smiled, and was just about to kiss her forehead when Cogsworth cleared his throat. The two jolted apart from each other, but shared a quick laugh nevertheless. 

The butler continued for the rest of dinner, explaining the details of the visit until the long table was cleared for the night.

By the time Belle got into bed and turned off the oil lamp on her bedside table, her mind was swimming with thoughts of Mr. Adam’s relatives. The first real guests of her time at Theron. She didn’t know what to expect. Lumiere had already given the impression that Lord Brankford was not the nicest of men, but then again, she didn’t expect to interact with any of the guests during their stay. Still, she wondered about them, their lives; probably too much for her own good.

Then her thoughts drifted to Mr. Adam. In her first few days at the big house, she’d still never caught a glimpse of him. He was almost starting to seem like a myth or a legend out of a story book. A myth with a scandalous reputation. Plumette had told her the maids seldom see their employer; it was mainly the footmen, his valet, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts who dealt with him. She’d made it seem like it was the hardest chore in the world, harder than cleaning every window or polishing every doorknob in the house.

Belle tried to think of her father instead, when she would be able to visit him, tell him about her work, but Mr. Adam still filled her thoughts as she drifted into sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! Thank you all so much for the continued support and your patience! In this chapter we meet Adam's relatives so as a sort of cheat sheet to keep track of them I've included a Game of Thrones-like family members list: 
> 
> The Savoy Family, 1912  
>  _Lord Charles Savoy_ , the 14th Earl of Villeneuve  
> His late wife, _Lady Clarissa Savoy (née Capet)_ , Countess of Villeneuve  
> Their son and heir, _the Honourable Adam Savoy_ (b. 1887, 25)  
>  Lord V's elder sister, _Lady Margaret Lascelles (née Savoy)_ , Marchioness of Brankford, married to _Lord William Lascelles_ , Marquess of Brankford  
> Their twin sons, _the Honourable Alexander Lascelles and the Honourable Edward Lascelles_ (b. 1885, 27)  
>  Their daughter, _Lady Theresa Lascelles_ (b. 1891, 21)  
>  Lord V's younger sister, _Lady Anna Donovan (née Savoy)_ , married to _Sir Frederick Donovan_  
>  Their daughter, _Elizabeth Donovan_ (b. 1895, 17)  
>  Their daughter, _Ada Donovan_ (b. 1898, 14)  
>  Lord V's youngest sister, _Lady Lyra Vaughn (née Savoy)_ , Viscountess Sutton, married to _Lord Henry Vaughn_ , Viscount Sutton  
> Their son, _the Honourable Jonathan Vaughn_ (b.1904, 8)  
>  Their daughter, _the Honourable Eleanor Vaughn_ (b. 1906, 6) 
> 
> Again, thank you for commenting/giving kudos! Enjoy!

_Kent_

_September 1912_

* * *

 It wasn’t the first time Adam had been awaken from his sleep rather abruptly by someone loudly entering his room and drawing the curtains, but that morning, more than most, he wanted nothing more than to stay in his room all day. And if he couldn’t do that, he wished to retreat to the library for some solace alone.

But that wasn’t possible, for his valet, Chappeau, reminded him that his aunts would be arriving soon. “They took the nine o’clock train, sir,” the valet said after suggesting he get dressed for breakfast. “They’ll be here within the next two hours.”

“All of them?” Adam grumbled from his bed, pulling the sheets further up over his head.  He could hear Chappeau rummaging through his dressing room, picking out his suit jacket and cufflinks and the like.

“I believe so, sir,” he said, emerging from the room. “Breakfast is just about ready and you must give the maids time to clean all the guest rooms before they arrive.”

Adam rolled his eyes under the sheets, an action that would have earned him a stern look and a smack on the hand from his father. But his father wasn’t here. For all his talk about saving money and marrying well, he never had enough interest to actually _visit_ him. Adam was just to marry a girl with a sufficient fortune, and every few weeks he’d find out from Cogsworth that his father had invited a woman and her family to stay at Theron. The women always left disappointed.

Many of the women whom his father invited were very keen to gain Adam’s favour, and didn’t seem interested in anything else. However, there had been one that had piqued his interest, not so long ago. But she loved another, it was written all over her face. And even though Adam had considered marrying her anyway just to end his country imprisonment, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Some days he woke up regretting the decision. After all, the woman was probably married to another ghastly fellow she didn’t love, and if they’d married at least _he_ wouldn’t have cared his she carried on with another man, so long as he could carry on with other women. He’d survived enough scandal to bare the gossip and papers.

Adam finally looked up from under the sheets at his valet and crinkled his nose. “No, not those. I wore them yesterday,” he said, referring to the set of silver cufflinks Chappeau was setting out. “The gold ones instead.”

Chappeau signed and retrieved the gold cufflinks from the dressing room, and when he returned Adam was still not out of bed. “Sir, I insist you get up.”

Adam let out a tired groan. He knew his valet couldn’t convince him to get up by himself, but Cogsworth would find a way sooner or later. Not wanting to endure the butler’s wrath, Adam shook off the sheets and allowed Chappeau to dress him.

He wore a simple grey suit with a navy-blue cravat, much less extravagant than what he had worn in London. His father had still decreased his allowance even though Adam had agreed to go back to Kent, so he was rarely able to purchase new clothing – the clothing that he was used to, at least.

In the five months since he’d returned to Theron, he’d become as much as a recluse as a person of his station could become. When whatever woman or guest his father had invited to stay were not present, Adam read in the sanctuary of the library. In his mind, he was escaping the walls of Theron without leaving the ground, and no one could bother him.

After his valet was finished, Adam exited his room to go to breakfast. The scent of fresh-baked bread, eggs, and ham wafted from the bright breakfast room, making his stomach grumble. One thing he would never admit to anyone, was that he preferred the food from his childhood home more than he ever did the food of London. There was a certain comfort surrounding the Theron cook’s food. It reminded him of the meals he shared with his mother before she died. After that his father was constantly traveling, and bringing Adam with him.

As he served himself from the silver trays at the front of the room and took a seat at the head of the table, Lumiere approached him with a letter on a silver tray.

“The post came for you this morning, sir,” the footman said, bending down so Adam could take the letter from the tray.

“Is it my relatives saying they ran into trouble and have cancelled their visit?” Adam asked hopefully as he took the letter and the letter opener beside it. “No, sir, it’s addressed from Mr. Edmund Lynn,” Lumiere replied.

Adam’s heart dropped. Another letter from Ned. That would be three times in one month, and countless others since he moved back. He opened the letter and skimmed it contents to find them the repeating inquiries of Ned’s past letters. _How was he doing? Was he traveling? What parties was he attending that he wasn’t inviting Ned to?_ He folded the letter and placed it on the table in front of him.

Adam couldn’t bring himself to reply to any of Ned’s inquiries. He felt too ashamed of his father’s threat to take away his fortune and inheritance to correct Ned’s wild assumptions. And despite that, he couldn’t let even the slightest rumour slip to London.

There had been many letters after his sudden departure from London, but after a few months Ned stopped writing about what other were saying. It was like everyone had forgotten about him. And now, despite himself, he wished Ned would forget about him too. It would be much easier that telling him his whole inheritance had been threatened unless he marries.

It wasn’t as if Adam didn’t want to marry, he just didn’t expect he’d have to marry so soon. And being forced to marry a woman with considerable wealth never made the task easier. After what felt like countless courting attempts orchestrated by his father, Adam had resigned to the fact that he may never marry.

Adam ate his breakfast in silence while re-reading the story of _Lancelot and Guinevere,_ and was able to make it through a considerable part of the novel before Cogsworth was practically shoving out the door to greet his relatives.

As Adam excited the large front doors of the house, he saw that the staff was already lined up to the left of him. Some looked positively bored, while others wore no readable expression. But one maid, a maid whom Adam had never seen before, had a sense of wonderment and nervousness about her.

Mrs. Potts had told Adam they were hiring a new maid after one of them had found another job as a secretary. _Elinor? Anna?_ He couldn’t remember her name. He’d been taken aback when the news of the maid’s desire to leave service had been expressed to him, though Mrs. Potts was quite insistent about letting her leave if she wanted to, and not making it difficult for the girl. Of course, Adam had no way of _making_ her stay. The days of serfdom was generations behind him, after all.

Just as Adam had enough of waiting, five motors pulled into the house’s grounds and up the driveway. The motors stopped just before Theron’s front entrance, and the footmen rushes to unload the belongings from the last two, while the chauffeurs opened the doors of the first three.

Adam tried to hide his grimace as his relatives exited the motors. He wanted the visit to be over already. He already planned to spend most of the time either in the solace of the library or in his room, reading whatever he could get his hands on, but he knew Cogsworth would find some way to make him socialize eventually.

“Adam, dear, how are you?” The first to greet him was his aunt Margaret, the Marchioness of Brankford. He knew she didn’t really care about his wellbeing – at every other family gathering the only topic she talked about were his prospects, how Theron is holding up, and if they had to sell anything else after the _Titanic._ Adam always had three short responses for her: fine, fine, and no. He would make an effort to avoid conversation with her at all costs.

“Fine, Aunt Margaret,” Adam replied in a rather dull tone. Her husband came around from the other side of the motor, lighting a cigar. The Marquess of Brankford as a tall, stiff man who took great interest in hunting and cigars; two other topics Adam had no interest in discussing.

Their three children exited the motor next; the two sons, Alexander and Edward, looking as bored as Adam was feeling. At least they had that in common. The daughter, Theresa, however, looked on at Theron with a much more enthusiastic expression than her brothers. He didn’t know why – the Brankford’s own family home was larger than Theron (though Adam hated to admit it), and it was by the ocean. Just thinking of it made him long for the days when he could freely travel from coast to coast, without worrying about how much money he was spending.

“There’s tea in the library,” Cogsworth announced as the rest of his relatives spilled into Theron’s entrance while the maids and footman scurried to carry their belongings in and up to their appropriate rooms. His third aunt, Lyra, guided her two young children into the house without so much as a glance towards Adam. Her husband, the Viscount Sutton, however did stop to give him a firm handshake. His second aunt, Anna, and her husband seemed rather exhausted from the journey, but that didn’t stop her from giving a stream of orders to her lady’s maid. Adam tried to repress a chuckle as he watched the maid try to push down her own annoyance. The poor girl was probably used to it.

Only their eldest daughter, Elizabeth, stopped to greet Adam while the rest of her family entered Theron.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, taking off her gloves. If Adam were being truthful to himself, he didn’t know if he could give a straight answer to his cousin. For five months he’d been stuck practically in solitary confinement, cut off from his previous way of life. He couldn’t keep correspondence with Ned because he felt too ashamed, and he resisted the countless advances of the women his father invited to Theron. Adam was in a rut, neither moving forward nor backward.

“I’m holding up,” was all Adam said, trying not to think about how many months, perhaps _years,_ he would spend stuck at Theron.

Elizabeth offered him a sympathetic smile. “Well, you can always write to me, you know.” 

“Elizabeth!” A voice called from the parlour, prompting his cousin to rush into the entrance. Out of all his cousins, Adam had always been closest with Elizabeth. Before his mother had passed, she and Aunt Anna had been very close friends, so they were always making trips to London to see them, or Anna and Sir Frederick would travel to Kent to spend time in the country.

Adam and Elizabeth would always play together, or spend hours in the library readings stories to each other.

But that had all come to an end when Adam’s mother died. After the funeral, the trips became sparser and sparser until they stopped completely.

There seemed to be a whirlwind of movement around him now that his relatives had entered the house. Maids and footmen quickly made trips back and forth from the driveway, moving all the luggage from the motors. The uniforms and livery blended into one, but Adam couldn’t help but notice the young maid with light brown hair, a few strands peeking out from her bonnet. She’d been the one that had looked on at his relatives both with nervousness and wonderment; clearly the look of someone new to service. But now, as she carried cases two at a time, she looked as if she’d been at Theron for years.

Adam realized his gaze upon the girl had lingered too long, and begrudgingly entered the house.

* * *

 “This is the last one,” Lumiere said as he handed the large hat box to Belle.

“They don’t travel light, Mr. Adam’s relatives,” Belle commented, adjusting her grip on the box to make sure it wouldn’t slip from her fingers. She didn’t even want to imagine the trouble she’d land herself in if she ruined one of ladies’ hats.

“Not a chance,” Lumiere replied.

Her heart was still racing from the moment she stepped in line with the other housemaids in front of the estate, nervously anticipating the arrival of Mr. Adam’s relatives. At first, she didn’t know why was feeling so nervous, they were just people, after all. People whom she wouldn’t likely interact with for the duration of their stay. But even so, there was something so different about them; the way they carried themselves.

While they had been waiting on the driveway, Belle had caught a short glimpse of her employer. His blonde hair had shone in the sun, and he wore a look of disdain on his face. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the young man because she’d been standing at the very far end of the line, and she was sure that Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts would not appreciate it if she craned her neck to gaze at the man.

Belle walked alongside Plumette as they carried the ladies’ belongings through the servants’ passages to their respective rooms while Lumiere and the other footmen were busy showing the arriving valets to their lords’ rooms.

After making the rounds with Plumette to make sure the proper belongings were in the proper rooms, they descended to the servants’ hall which was seemed to be filled to capacity with the visiting staff. Each family had brought at least one lady’s maid and a valet, though Lord Brankford had brought two: one for himself and the other for his two sons.

Before Belle and Plumette could sit down to have a cup of tea, Mrs. Potts approached the girls in a fluster.

“Lady Anna is requesting another maid for her younger daughter,” she said in an annoyed tone. Even though Belle had been at Theron for less than a week, she knew Mrs. Potts hated any sudden and unexpected change.

“I can look after both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Ada,” Plumette said in a much more enthusiastic tone.

Mrs. Potts shook her head. “She wants two separate maids, though heaven knows why. Belle, dear, would you be willing to take care of Miss Ada? Plumette would be able to help you.”

“Of course,” Belle replied. Mrs. Potts signed in relief. “Good, that’s one issue taken care of. Make sure the drawing room is ready before the dressing gong.”

“Yes, Mrs. Potts,” the maids said in unison and finally took their seats at the table.

“I shouldn’t worry about taking care of Miss Ada,” Plumette said, stirring a few sugar cubes into her tea cup. “I’ll be there with you to show you have to manage everything. It’s easy once you get the hang of it, and once you know your mistress.”

Belle smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much, Plumette.”

* * *

 As Chappeau tightened the white bowtie around his collar, Adam imagined he was dining with only himself, and wouldn’t have to suffer through the tedious conversations of his relatives that surely awaited him.

Tea in the library had been something he could excuse himself from after a short while, but with a large dinner, there was no where he could escape to.

The dressing gong had rung three-quarters of an hour ago, and Adam was fairly certain the rest of his relatives were already in the drawing room waiting for him to come down. Adam, of course, wanted to wait until the last possible minute to do so.

“I think you’re ready, sir,” Chappeau informed him. Adam gazed at his reflection in the long mirror. Though he was wearing the same white tie suit he always wore for dinner, he felt different. He longer felt like the man who’d gone to socialite parties or gambled away all his money.

In an attempt to delay the dinner even further, Adam gazed at his cufflinks. “Change them,” he said simply, sticking out his right wrist towards the valet. Though Chappeau tried to hide it, Adam heard the slightest groan from him as he walked over to retrieve a new set of cufflinks from a glass display box.

“You know you’re only making things worse by delaying, sir,” the valet said as he unfastened Adam’s cufflinks to replace them with the new set. “You’ll only make them resent you.”

“They already resent me,” Adam replied.

“Not all of them.”

“Enough of them do to warrant a delay.”

Once the new set of cufflinks was fastened, Adam gazed at his reflection once again. “Is there any excuse I could make to get out of this?” Though he felt desperate, his voice showed no signs of it.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” the valet replied, folding his hands behind his back. Adam sighed. “Well, into battle, then,” he said as he headed down to the drawing room.

Cogsworth opened the door for him, and the relief shown on his relative’s faces was palpable.

“Heavens, Adam, we thought we might have to go in without you,” Aunt Anna said, her tone most displeasing.

“Do you always keep your guests waiting this long, or have we received special treatment?” Aunt Margaret snapped, standing from the sofa she had been sitting on.

Thankfully, the door opened and Cogsworth saved him from replying by announcing that dinner was ready. The large group entered the grand dining room and sat themselves around the long table, which was decorated with fresh flowers from Theron’s gardens.

Adam remained quiet for most of the dinner, only giving short responses to his relative’s questions. Usually, once one received an answer as short of Adam’s they would make conversation with a more willing participant.

Lord Brankford was talking with Sir Frederick about some such trip to India, while his elder cousins Alexander and Edward were conversing about tomorrow’s hunt; an event Adam would take care to avoid. Everyone seemed wrapped up in their own conversations, and content with ignoring him.

But Adam knew it wouldn’t last long.

While the main course was being served, Margaret brought up a topic Adam had so far been spared.

“No engagement announcements, Adam?” She asked as she served herself some chicken from Lumiere’s tray.

“No, Aunt Margaret,” Adam replied, wishing he could transport himself away from the dining room.

“Such a shame. It must get so lonely here all alone.”

“I read a lot,” he said, letting a bitter tone seep into his words. Aunt Margaret paused for a while, and Adam thought she had put the topic to rest until she opened her mouth again.

“Well, you must be able to court a lady if even Theresa can find a fiancé,” she said, earning a cross look from her daughter across the table.

“Mother, please,” Theresa said, exasperated.

Margaret shrugged. “Well, after three Seasons I was starting to think you’d abandoned the idea of marriage altogether.”

“These things take time, Aunt Margaret,” Elizabeth spoke up. “You can’t just will love to happen.”

Adam let out the slightest sigh of praise under his breath. It was a seldom thing to see someone defend him. But perhaps it wasn’t _him_ she was defending, but _love._

“Oh, no I quite agree with Mama,” his cousin Edward spoke up. “Love isn’t essential to a relationship, especially for people like us.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the statement. “My God, Edward, we are living in the twentieth century if I recall correctly–”

“You’ve been reading too many novels, Elizabeth. Better to arrange a marriage quickly and let love come after,” Margaret commented. Adam clenched his silverware tighter in his hands.

“My mother had been in an arranged marriage, and look how well that turned out,” Adam’s temper got the better of him as he practically shouted the words across the table. The dining room fell terribly quiet.

Aunt Margaret glared at him, and didn’t look at all like she regretted her words. With a huff of frustration, Adam stood from the table a quickly excused himself from the room.

“Sir!” Lumiere said in exasperation as he passed him in the hall carrying in the next course.

“I’ve elected to take dinner in my room,” Adam said as he climbed up the stairs for some solitude. His relatives could bloody well entertain themselves. They seemed to be doing a marvelous job already.

* * *

 As Belle gathered the cleaning equipment from the small closet in the servants’ hall the next morning, her mind was still reeling with the gossip exchanged the night before.

In between serving the main course and the dessert, Lumiere had told both she and Plumette the dramatic events of the night.

“He just stormed out,” the footman had said as he waited for the kitchen maids to be done plating the dish on his tray. “Just left?” Plumette asked, more than a little shocked. Lumiere nodded. “I don’t know what was said in the dining room, but Mr. Adam sure didn’t like it.”

“Perhaps Mr. Adam was just tired,” Belle suggested. “I know I would if I had that many relatives staying over.”

“Lumiere! Hurry up, or the mousse will go runny!” The cook, a small woman with a big temper, shouted at the footman. Lumiere nodded and picked up the tray but before he could leave the kitchen Cogsworth stepped in.

“What happened in there?” The footman asked very eagerly. The butler let out a frustrated grunt. “All I will say on the matter was that Lady Brankford made some choicest remarks that offended Mr. Adam. Now get back up there.”

Lumiere gave a small smile to Plumette before going back out into the fray.

Belle shook off the memories as she entered Theron’s main parlour. Despite the long and tiresome hours Belle knew were ahead of her, she was excited to be working in the Theron’s library. For the past week, she’d only seen it through open doors and never in all its full glory. But that afternoon, while Mr. Adam and his family enjoyed themselves on the hunt, she and Plumette were put in charge of cleaning it before they got back.

Her friend was caught up with other duties at present – one of Lady Sutton’s many dresses required mending – and Belle offered to start on the library and allow her to join after. Belle opened the library’s large oak door as quietly as she could even with a broom under her arm, and a bucket containing rags, dusters, and polish. But as she stepped into the expansive room, she could have dropped everything in her excitement. Never before had been seen, or better yet _experienced_ such a marvelous display of literature.

Theron Hall’s library was two storeys tall, with wall-to-wall shelves containing more books than she’d ever seen in her life. Each wall contained a sliding ladder so one could easily reach the top shelves, and on the second floor there was a gallery open to below, with even more shelves. There were a few large wooden tables with more books sprawled across, some with maps or atlases open displaying the continents of Europe and Asia. The room was brightly lit, with floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the perfect green grounds at the front of the house, and from the ceilings hung a number of electric crystal chandeliers. Further in, a massive fireplace stood with an equally massive portrait above it. The man sitting in the portrait appeared to be tall, with a stern face, and the same blonde hair as Mr. Adam’s. A Savoy ancestor, most likely.

Belle set her materials by the wall beside the fireplace, when she heard rustling from the far corner. Nervously, she peeked over, and saw Mr. Adam Savoy lounging on a sofa beneath of the windows, clearly deeply engrossed in the book he was reading. It was the first time she’d seen Mr. Adam in such a way, peaceful, calm. To her, the young man in front of her didn’t resemble the gambling, careless playboy she’d heard about.

Trying to turn back unnoticed, her arm went out a bit too far and knocked over the broom, making a loud _thump_ against the wooden flooring. Belle picked up the broom as quickly as she could, first cursing herself for letting it happen and then praying it hadn’t left a mark on the floor. She didn’t have much time to check, because Mr. Adam noticed the commotion and quickly looked up from his book, gazing straight at her. Belle cursed herself again for attracting attention. Mrs. Potts had said it was the _last_ thing she should do.

"I thought I said I didn't want to be disturbed," he said in a frustrated tone.

She felt heat rise in her cheeks and forehead and Mr. Adam continued to gaze at her, with the smallest smile creeping up onto his lips.

It felt like an eternity under his gaze, and even though everything in her body told her not to, she opened her mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. “I was told by Mrs. Potts to clean the library before the guests finish the hunt." As she spoke, her voice became stronger and steadier. "I wasn't told that you would be here so I assumed you would be with them.”

Mr. Adam’s eye brow raised, clearly taken aback by her fortitude. He considered her for a moment, then gazed out the window. Though he was trying to hide it, Belle could see his expression soften ever so slightly in the window’s reflection.

“I was never one for the hunt. Never a good shot. Father teases me mercilessly for it, the bastard that he is. But did he make an effort to instruct me? No. He got in a rage and the refuse to stand near me out of fear one of my bullets would hit him instead of the bird. More than once I wished his fear would come true.”

Belle was shocked by her employer’s confessions, breathing a little harder and quicker. Mr. Adam quickly realised his gravity of his words as well with a slight look of shock. Still, his composure remained calm as ever, and his words didn’t falter. Setting down his book beside him, he continued to gaze out into the vast landscape surrounding Theron. He didn’t dare look at her.

“I should not have said those things,” he breathed. “Not in the presence of-”

“I won’t betray your trust, sir,” Belle replied. Mr. Adam’s lips curved upward into the smallest, yet grateful smile, making Belle smile in return. He nodded and picked up his book from the sofa. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, and swiftly exited the library. Belle watched him go, and when he disappeared beyond the wooden door she let out a breath and found herself leaning against the edge of the fireplace.

Belle was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn’t hear Plumette enter until she was practically shaking her into the present.

“My, what’s gotten into you?” Plumette asked.

Belle shook her head in an attempt to clear her thought. “I um… I…” she couldn’t help but smile at recent memories. “Mr. Adam was here. He left a few moments ago.”

“I didn’t see him in the halls.”

 _Heavens, how long had Belle in idle for?_ “We talked… for a bit.”

Plumette’s eyebrows raised. “You _talked?_ You and Mr. Adam?”

“Only for a moment. And I _talked_ is more of an overstatement. He gazed out the window and spoke while I listened.”

“You’re practically a lady, now,” Plumette laughed. “Now help set up the ladder so we can dust the chandeliers and you can tell me all about your encounter.”

Belle and Plumette talked until Mrs. Potts entered the library to shoo them out and let the other girls get the room ready for the afternoon tea. It hadn’t seemed like they’d conversed for very long, but Belle was still curious about her encounter with Mr. Adam. She hadn’t told Plumette _everything,_ of course; only that he’d been deep in a book and wouldn’t have noticed Belle were it not for her own nervousness.

She could tell that Mr. Adam tried to put on his cold front, this shield to hide all emotions. She didn’t know why she felt this way about a man whom she’d never met, a man so high above her own station. Never mind the impropriety of his scandalous reputation. It would not do her any good to have any further encounters such as this with Mr. Adam, especially not in Cogsworth’s eyes.

* * *

 When the dressing gong rang, Belle and Plumette went their separate ways. After the previous night, Belle was comfortable with helping Miss Ada while Plumette got started on Lady Theresa.

“How was the hunt today, my lady?” Plumette asked as she laid out the young woman’s evening dress. Normally, the maid would wait for her mistress to speak to her first, but she always took care of Lady Theresa on the few occasions she stayed at Theron, so they were on friendly terms – that is, if her mother wasn’t present. Plumette fancied herself Lady Thersa’s unofficial Theron lady’s maid.

“Wonderful,” Lady Theresa smiled, and turned her back to the maid so she could start getting her out of her dress. “The boys performed spectacularly. Though, I wasn’t surprised at the absence of Mr. Adam at both breakfast _and_ the hunt. Mother can be so horrid sometimes.”

Plumette tried not to react to the lady’s words, even if she agreed with them. She was on friendly terms with Lady Theresa – but not _that_ friendly. And besides, if Cogsworth heard she’d agreed to such disagreeable words about a guest he’d never let her hear the end of it.

“Now what is all this about?”

Both Plumette and Lady Theresa turned with a jolt towards the door. Lady Brankford stepped into the room, already dressed, with a curious look on her face. From her expression, it seemed as if she though they had been plotting some sort of scheme just now.

“Just talking about the hunt today, Mama,” Lady Theresa cleared her throat and Plumette finished unlacing the girl’s dress. She stepped out of the fabric, and the maid folded it neatly and laid it on the bed. Then, she brought the evening dress around and allowed Lady Theresa to step into it.

It was a beautiful gown, grey with sheer chiffon sleeves and a Victorian-style v-shaped neckline. To say Plumette was not envious of the lady’s high society fashion would be a lie. From time to time, she was guilty of imagining herself in one of these dresses, dancing in the parlour of Theron with Lumiere.

“Edward and Alexander did very well, don’t you think?” Lady Theresa added. “And little Jonathan had taken a shine to that pony, how adorable.”

“Hmm,” Lady Brankford agreed, however unenthusiastically, as she sat down on the bed. “It all seems odd to me.”

“What does?” Lady Theresa asked.

“That my brother should force Adam to marry to succeed him when there’s a solution staring him in the face.”

Even though Plumette was lacing the dress up from behind, she could tell that Lady Theresa rolled her eyes as she put her hands on her hips. “That’s tight enough, thank you,” she whispered to the maid as she finished the lacing.

“Mama, not this again, not now. You already made him so upset last night.” Lady Theresa moved across the room to sit at the vanity table. Plumette promptly started to brush the girl’s long auburn hair and pin it up.

“I’m serious, Theresa,” Lady Brankford’s tone became harsher.

“And Uncle Charles is serious as well, Mama.”

“He can’t be serious. Not with something as big as this. If he at least made Edward his heir we could keep Theron and the earldom in the family.”

“But this accountant… he is family. Technically,” Lady Theresa let out a sigh of exasperation. Plumette tried her best not to react to the conversation she was witness, but was finding it very difficult. The hair pins she was holding were practically falling out of her hands. _How could they be speaking of replacing Mr. Adam as heir to Theron with Mr. Edward?_ Surely even His Lordship would not agree to that. 

“Not to me,” Lady Brankford said sharply.

Plumette dropped a few of the hair pins on the floor, snapping her from her idle state of worry. “Sorry, my lady,” she mumbled as she bent down to pick them up.

“Are you alright?” Lady Theresa asked, craning her neck to look at the maid.

“Yes,” Plumette cleared her throat. “I was just distracted for a moment, won’t happen again.”

It was then Lady Brankford seemed to care about her presence in the room. “I trust you won’t betray our confidence,” she said. Plumette could sense a threat hidden somewhere in those words.

“No, Your Ladyship,” she replied, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.

“Good,” Lady Brankford said. “I should hate to think a sweet girl like you would spread such… unpleasant gossip about a guest.”

Plumette didn’t say anything, only swallowed hard.

“Now, I think it’s time we go down. I should hate to keep people waiting, unlike _other_ members of his family.”

Lady Theresa muttered a short “thank you” to Plumette before going down with her mother, leaving the housemaid feeling completely alone.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! 
> 
> As always, thank you for your support and patience! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

_Kent_

_September 1912_

* * *

The next morning, Adam once again elected to dine in solitude.

Thankfully, the dinner the previous night wasn’t filled with snide remarks or raised voices (perhaps a product of a tiresome hunt earlier in the day), but that didn’t make the evening any more enjoyable.

His relatives were staying for only three more days, and Adam was planning on seeing just how many more meals he could get away with skipping out on. If he was lucky, he would eat both breakfast and luncheon by himself, and only have to suffer through dinner.

As he was reading the paper and just about finished his breakfast, he heard the sound of the doors opening and shutting, and the soft patter of footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Adam leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. He had told Cogsworth he would be taking his breakfast in here, he’d made sure of it. Why were there still people who insisted on interrupting his time alone? Though, if it was one of this relatives – and it very well could be – they wouldn’t care that he’d told them he didn’t want to be disturbed. Their whole _visit_ was disturbing him, after all.

As the footsteps grew closer, Adam was ready to raise his voice again as he turned to see whoever had entered the library, but stopped short when the maid from the previous afternoon came into view.

She stopped short as well, clearly surprised to see him.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” the maid started to say. “Mrs. Potts didn’t tell me you would be here or I wouldn’t have come up.”

“It would seem to me that you can’t get enough of me,” he smiled slyly, making the girl’s cheeks flush a deep red.

“I’m here to do my job, sir,” Belle replied, a slight tone of annoyance in her voice. Adam didn’t know if the months trapped at Theron wiped away some of his charm or that the maid was simply not interested, but either way, being discarded by a woman he’d just met was a new sensation for him.

Adam cleared his throat and looked back down the paper. “Right, of course,” he said. “How are you settling in, then?”

“Very well, thank you. Plumette and Mrs. Potts have been ever so helpful,” she replied. He looked up from the paper at the girl, and smiled brightly.

“And I hope my family haven’t scared you off,” Adam said with a slight chuckle.

“Not at all. I’m sure most people have relatives they’d rather not want a visit from.”

“Not as bad as mine, though,” Adam chuckled.

Just then, another set of hurried footsteps came into the library, along with a worried shout. “Belle, Belle!” A nervous voice floated deeper into the library as Plumette came into view.

Both Adam and the maid shifted their gazes, and Plumette’s eyes grew wide in shock. He waited for her speak.

“Um…” she began, trying to collect her words. “Very sorry to interrupt, Mr. Adam, but Mrs. Potts just said you would be in here and we’ve been asked to start with the drawing room instead.”

Adam nodded. “Of course.”

The maid… _Belle_ shifted her gaze to him and smiled softly before leaving the room with Plumette, and he watched her go. Once she was gone, he couldn’t deny the certain sense of comfort he felt when she was around, and the way she always looked at the library with such wonderment and appreciation… It had been a long time since anyone in the house loved the library as much as him.

As quickly as the thoughts came, he shook them away. It would never happen, nothing _could_ ever happen between them. It was a fantasy, something out of a novel. He was doomed to marry a wealthy woman solely based on her prospects, and not a woman he actually loved, and he was certain that if he didn’t pick a bride soon, his father would pick for him. The thought filled his body with a certain dread, of spending out his life in the company of someone he didn’t love. But the thought of living out his days at Theron alone filled his body with an equal amount of dread. But which would be worse?

Adam took a deep breath, trying to push away both thoughts. He walked over to one of the far shelves and picked out another of my favourites, and had barely gotten through the first page when he was yet again interrupted. But this time it was not by Belle or someone else just as pleasant, it was his aunt, Margaret.

“Adam,” she called as she made her way further into the library. He inwardly groaned, and slipped his mother’s embroidered book mark into the pages of the book and set it down, though he wished he didn’t have to.

If Adam were to say “hello” or “good morning”, Margaret would have interrupted him, but as it happens he said neither of those things as he wished for the encounter to be over as quickly as it began.

“I’ve invited some friends to stay over for a night or two. They’re traveling back from the continent and were about to stay at Lady Cherris’s place, you know, the sorry excuse for a great house, so I invited them here instead.”

Adam blinked. This woman had the audacity to invite strangers into a house that was not her own… it was bad enough _she_ was staying in it for another three days, let alone _her friends._

“When, pray tell, were going to inform me about this?” He didn’t even know why he tried to hide the anger and frustration in his tone. Perhaps because he knew an innocent book would be caught in the crossfire.

Aunt Margaret stared at him blankly. “I just did, didn’t I?”

“You know what I mean,” Adam replied, rolling his eyes. _Could she be any more insufferable?_

“Well I only found out last night, and you, it seems, have made it your mission to avoid us and left the drawing room before I could bring it up. And besides, I couldn’t very well let them stay at Lady Cherris’s. There is practically water running down the walls, I really don’t know how she can stand it.”

There was obviously no convincing her that these friends of hers could stay anywhere else. “Tell Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth, they’ll get everything sorted,” he said, picking his book back up and turning to the page he’d started.

“They’re _your_ servants,” Margaret said and walked out of the library in long strides.

Adam scoffed. “They’re _your_ guests!” he called out after her, but she was no longer listening.

* * *

“Can you believe it?” Plumette asked angrily as she and Belle changed the sheets of the guest bedroom they were preparing for Lady Brankford’s mysterious guests.

“She’s just doing it because she knows she can get away with it with Mr. Adam. She wouldn’t even dare to try that with his Lordship in the house,” she continued, tucking the sheets under the mattress.

“Perhaps that’s why she seldom visits,” Belle suggested. “I know I wouldn’t mind her out of the house as quickly as possible.”

Perhaps Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth would be very cross with her if they’d heard those words, but she got a feeling they were no fans of the Brankfords. None of the staff were, in fact. Last night during the guests’ dinner, Lumiere had joked about mixing soap in with Lord Brankford’s soup, but of course cared too much for his job to actually try it. He’d even made sure Cogsworth was out of earshot so he didn’t suspect.

“First last night and now this…” Plumette muttered.

“What happened last night?” Belle asked, concerned. Plumette shook her head as she fluffed one of the pillows. “Nothing, nothing,” she said

Belle looked at her suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

“I… I don’t know if I can say, at the moment,” she replied slowly, as if carefully constructing the sentence.

“You can always tell me, whenever you’re ready,” Belle said, moving over towards the head housemaid and held her hand comfortingly.

“Thank you,” Plumette said. “Now, let’s get the other room done before Lady Brankford comes up and orders us around herself.” Belle smiled, and they moved to the next guest room to change the sheets and get it ready.

Plumette spent the whole time telling stories about when they went to London for the Season the previous year, and Belle listened gratefully. Her memories were so vivid that it made Belle feel as if she were in them herself.

It made her long for London that much more, and hoped desperately she’d be able to travel there sooner or later.

The two housemaids finished preparing the guest rooms and descended the stairs into the servants’ hall.

The kitchen maids were setting the long table for luncheon, and Percy was playing a delightful tune on the small piano. From the kitchen, the smell of meat pies wafted over, making Belle realize she was terribly hungry after preparing those two rooms, and not to mention a second encounter with Mr. Adam.

She hadn’t appreciated the way he flirted with her, though she could tell he was used to getting his way all the time. It would make things difficult for her position, and not to mention her job would be a stake. If anything happened between them, she might not be able to work again, and all her dreams of travelling would be dashed.

But perhaps he didn’t really mean what he had said. Perhaps it was all an act. Knowing Mr. Adam’s reputation, it wouldn’t surprise Belle if he just looking for some form of entertainment, and he found it with the new housemaid. It that were the case, then Belle would not give him the pleasure.

* * *

A few hours after the servants’ luncheon, Plumette found her sweetheart in one of the store rooms, shining the silverware for the dinner that evening.

“So, the mystery guests arrived safely?” Plumette asked, entering the small room. She picked up some of the silverware and polish from the wooden table and started helping him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Lumiere said, trying to get her to put the fork and polishing rag down.

“I want to help you,” she insisted. “Dinner’s not for hours and all the rooms have been cleaned until they sparkle.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Lumiere breathed, almost spilling too much polish on his rag.

“No, you don’t,” she replied. “Now tell me about the guests.”

“Yes, I was quite surprised when they arrived. They’re both young, perhaps around Lady Brankford’s sons ages.”

“And here I thought Lady Brankford didn’t have any friends below the age of forty.”

Lumiere laughed at her comments. “Yes, exactly my thoughts, but it turns out one is the son of the Duke of Chester, and the other his friend who’d been living in Paris or Madrid or some such place.”

“My, I’m sure Mr. Adam is _thrilled_ to have them staying.”

“Oh yes, his absence was noted.”

“Why would Lady Brankford invite them here, though?”

“God knows why that woman does what she does, but I heard her and conversing about a possible marriage plan, probably between Mr. Adam and the duke’s daughter.”

_But that makes no sense,_ Plumette thought as she scrubbed a little harder to get a blemish off of the fork. Just last night she and Lady Theresa were talking about replacing Mr. Adam as heir with her own son. It would do her no good for Mr. Adam to marry a wealthy woman. But perhaps that was just a cover for different reason she had for inviting them to Theron.

“Perhaps she’s trying to marry off Miss Elizabeth to the son of the duke,” Plumette mused, trying not to let her voice falter.

Lumiere scoffed. “The girl’s only seventeen, she hasn’t even attended her first Season yet.”

“Still, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Oh, no doubt. Either that or she’s trying to get her own daughter to reconsider.”

“Lady Theresa would never do that,” Plumette insisted.

“But Lady Brankford thinks all women are like her. She thinks they will pass up something when a better offer comes along.”

“What a terrible way to view other people.”

“What?” Lumiere asked, gazing at Plumette with a mischievous smile. “You wouldn’t leave me if the Prince of Wales himself offered you his hand in marriage?”

“Never,” Plumette replied firmly, placing a kiss on his cheek. “To me, there are no better offers than you.”

Lumiere was about to kiss her when a knock came from the door. Plumette and Lumiere jolted apart suddenly, out of fear that Cogsworth had caught them, but it was only Lady Brankford’s maid, Helena.

“Can I help?” Plumette asked.

“I was going to ask how to get to the post office, but I see that you two are rather busy,” the lady’s maid said in a bored tone.

“It’s right beside the pub,” Plumette replied. “May I ask what you are delivering?”

“A letter to Lord Villeneuve from Her Ladyship.”

“Do you know what the letter contains?” Plumette pressed, earning a suspicious look from Lumiere.

“No,” the lady’s maid replied. “And I don’t particularly care.”

“You know, I was actually going to go into the village later this afternoon,” Plumette said, coming up with a plan. It perhaps wasn’t the best thought-out, but it was good enough. “I can take the letter for you. Save you the trip.”

“Alright,” Helena said, handing her the sealed letter. “Thank you,” Plumette replied, but the lady’s maid was already out of the room.

“That’s nice of you to offer,” Lumiere said, trying to kiss her again now that they were alone in the small room.

Plumette felt as if the letter were burning on her hands. She quickly returned Lumiere’s kiss and made an excuse to leave. “I’m afraid I have to leave now. Mrs. Potts said she wanted me to do a few things before the dressing gong, and I must hurry if I am to make good time for the post office.” It wasn’t _technically_ a lie; the housekeeper had said to her at luncheon that a button had fallen off one of Miss Elizabeth’s dresses and she needed to mend it, but that wouldn’t take a second.

Lumiere nodded with a certain look of knowing about him. If he did see through her slight fibs, he didn’t say anything.

As the housemaid left the storeroom and walked up the steep flights of stairs towards her own bedroom, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for extending the truth to Lumiere. But perhaps if he were in her position, he would have done the same thing. It would do no good if more people knew about Lady Brankford’s schemes, after all. She wanted to be sure first, before she confided in Lumiere, and the letter in her hands could contain the answers she wanted.

Plumette was relieved to see that Belle was not in their room, and she closed the door. Slowly, and carefully, she started to open the letter so the envelope wouldn’t rip. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to do so with her shaking hands. But eventually, after what felt like an century, the flap opened and Plumette retrieved the parchment inside.

Her heart raced as she scanned the contents of the letter. _Your son has been idle for far too long… risking the security of the estate… he must marry within a year… I suggest my son, Edward, as a suitable replacement as heir…_

Plumette gasped as she read. Lady Brankford _was_ trying to replace Mr. Adam as heir. The question was… would His Lordship agree? He’d already scouted that accountant… but perhaps he _would_ want to keep the earldom in close relations. But what would happen to Mr. Adam then? And what would happen to _them?_ If Mr. Edward was anything like his mother, he might replace them with new staff.

The housemaid took a deep breath and pushed all of that to the back of her mind. She only had one decision to make now: and that was to either mail the letter or keep it.

The door opened with a soft click, and Plumette nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Belle said. “I just came up to change before the dressing gong.”

Plumette didn’t reply, she was in deep thought.

“What is it?” Belle asked. “And what is that?”

It was only now that Plumette realized she was still holding the letter in front of her. “Nothing,” she said, perhaps a little too quickly, and folded the letter and inserted it back in the envelope.

“Is this about yesterday?”

Silence.

“Plumette, what are you holding? What have you done?” Belle’s tone wasn’t threatening at all, but concerned.

Plumette thought she might be able to pass off another excuse, but Belle wouldn’t go for it a second time, not after she’d been the letter in her hands. Besides, it would be better for her to know the truth, instead of arousing any suspicion.

“It’s a letter from Lady Brankford,” Plumette started. “To His Lordship.”

Belle stared blankly at her. “Why do you have it?”

“I told her lady’s maid I would mail it. But last night she was talking about… replacing Mr. Adam as heir to Theron with her own son, Mr. Edward. The letter outlines her plan to do so.”

“But surely His Lordship wouldn’t replace _his own son_ with another,” Belle argued, stepping closer towards her.

“That’s just it, though. Before Mr. Adam had moved back to Theron, His Lordship had found the next heir after him, an distant cousin. If he was willing to let the earldom pass to him, it would make sense he would let the earldom pass to Mr. Edward instead.”

“And now, what are you doing to do with the letter?” Belle asked. “If Lady Brankford finds out you read it, you’d lose your job.”

Plumette looked at her with a sort of desperation. “I know. I don’t know what to do.”

Belle thought for a moment. “Go to the post office anyway,” she suggested. “That way if anyone asks, you can say you did indeed visit the post office.”

“And what about the letter itself?”

“Keep it. Mr. Adam’s guests are only here for three more days, and His Lordship is off traveling on the continent. It would take weeks for the letter to reach him. After the guests leave, we can talk to Mr. Adam about it. You can tell him what you heard last night, but make no mention of the contents of the letter. If Mr. Adam wants to read the letter himself, he can.”

Plumette nodded, taking in Belle’s plan. It was good, certainly, but what worried her was the prospect of someone finding the letter in her room, and not to mention she had to seal it again. However, the plan did set her nerves at ease, at least for the moment.

* * *

To Adam’s surprise, dinner with his aunt’s guests hadn’t been a completely dreadful affair. William Ellis, the son of the Duke of Chester had got on very well with everyone (though Adam had mostly kept to himself during diner as usual), and his friend Mr. George Holloway, who had been seated next to Theresa had spent the whole dinner talking with her and payed little attention to anyone else. And by the looks of, Theresa had been quite taken with him as well.

_What a story that would be_ , Adam thought as he and the other men were making their way from the dining room to join the ladies in the drawing room. _The daughter of the Marquess of Brankford running off with man of no title or land._

Her mother certainly wouldn’t allow it, not after Theresa had found a suitable fiancé without her meddling.

As the men entered the drawing room, Lady Brankford’s face lit up. “William!” she called him over to where she was sitting with Elizabeth. “Tell my niece about your travels, I’m sure she would love to hear them.”

Adam rolled his eyes at his aunt’s obvious attempts to get Elizabeth married off so early, and it surprised him at the same time. He wouldn’t have though she could handle having a niece of higher rank than her own.

During dinner, Margaret had told Adam all about William’s sister, an eligible woman with only a Season or two behind her. Adam, of course, had attempted to change the subject at every turn.

“I could never marry anybody I was told to. I’m stubborn. I wish I wasn’t, but I am,” he had told her, though he didn’t know if he truly meant what he’d said in the last sentence.

As the room fell into quiet conversation, Adam thought he might slip out of the room to go to the library to read. He found himself hoping that maid, Belle, would walk in again, as she seemed to do so often. It was a silly thought, he admitted to himself, but a true one nonetheless.

All of the other servants of the house had known him for years… but Belle was new, so full of joy and wonder, and had given Mrs. Potts a run for her money in the way she spoke to him. Besides, he’d never seen another person gaze around the Theron library with the level of giddiness she had done. He longed to show her more of it, its collections of novels and encyclopaedias and atlases, he wanted to share his favourite books with her, and he hoped that she would show him hers.

But the pragmatist in him pushed him back into reality. It was true that Adam had never felt this way about anyone, and least of all the women pushed on him by his father, but he knew a relationship with a common housemaid would never, _ever,_ be accepted by his father, or even the peerage. Perhaps if he ignored the feelings, they’d go away eventually. The more he tried to rationalize a relationship between the two of them, the more he delayed the inevitable, and the more the terms of reality would hurt him.

Adam longed for another glass of port, and was about to ask Lumiere to fetch him one, but instead he caught Theresa and Mr. Holloway slip out of the drawing room.

It hadn’t looked as if they were about to engage in any _distasteful_ behaviour, but nevertheless Adam discreetly left the room to follow them.

Theron’s halls were dark at that time of night, and though a few of the lights were switched on, it was difficult to look for any movement.

He had almost completed a circuit of the main halls, when he heard a gasp from inside the library. Without warning, Adam opened the door and Theresa and Mr. Holloway jolted apart. It was clear they had been in an embrace, and not only judging by Theresa’s flushed an embarrassed expression.

“Your mother was asking where you’d gone off to,” Adam lied to Theresa.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, swiftly exiting the library, seeming thankful for the interruption. Mr. Holloway made to follow her out, but Adam stepped in front of his path.

“I trust this won’t happen again,” he said in a low voice. “Especially not in my home.” He paused for a moment, and the man was just about to leave when Adam spoke again. “And perhaps next time, try with a more _willing_ participant, and not a woman engaged to be married. It would be such a nuisance to have the police involved, and oh, the damage it would do to William’s reputation…”

Adam smirked as Mr. Holloway glared at him. He savoured his reaction for only moment before turning on his heel, leaving the library and retreated to his rooms.

He did care for his cousin’s reputation, at least in part, but as he climbed the stairs, he found himself more concerned about the nuisance scandal would bring upon Theron itself. Before, Adam had been able to get away with practically anything, including his share of affairs with married women. But now, he was doubtful his father would step in to save him. And besides that, it would only make him angrier and more willing to organize an arranged marriage as quickly as possible, something Adam wanted to avoid at all costs. It was bad enough he was being forced to marry, but at least he had the _illusion_ of choice in the matter. He couldn’t even fathom the idea of meeting his bride on the day of the wedding, an idea he was sure his father had considered at some point.

Adam fell onto his bed, willing the thoughts of arranged marriages out of his mind. He eyed the copy of _Lancelot and Guinevere_ on his nightstand, and read until he fell asleep with the book still in his hands.

* * *

It seemed as if Belle had only just fallen asleep when she was awoken by a gentle shake on her shoulder. She tried to shake away the hand, thinking it was a dream, but she was shaken again, a bit harder this time.

Belle opened his eyes and saw Plumette looking frantic above her. “Is everything alright?” Belle asked, suddenly alarmed at her friend’s expression.

“No, nothing’s alright,” a different voice said from the across the room. Belle looked up and recognized Lady Theresa in the dark, biting her nails. She looked at Plumette.

“What is going on?”

“Lady Theresa thinks Mr. Holloway has died,” Plumette answered, her voice uneven. Belle’s gaze shot to the lady, and then back to Plumette.

“What? How horrible! But why are you telling us? Surely you should inform Mr. Adam or your parents or…”

“He’s in my room. Mr. Holloway’s in my room.”

Belle’s eyes widened. “ _Your room?_ What in God’s name is he doing there?” Her voice raised a little, and Lady Theresa shushed her in response. “Sorry, my lady,” Belle apologized.

Lady Theresa shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I just… after dinner, he came into my room… started kissing me. We… ended up… ended up on the bed and he cried out and fell over, limp.” Tears started to fall from her eyes and her voice cracked as she spoke. “I need you two to help, I’m begging you. We must get Mr. Holloway back to his own room without anyone seeing. If my mother finds out she’ll disown me.” She held her palm to her mouth, trying to silence her cries.

Belle looked at Plumette, a bit unsure of whether to do anything, or try to come up with a plan that _didn’t_ involve carrying a grown man across the length of the house. But it was getting late with each passing second, and Lady Theresa’s plan was the only option.

Both maids nodded in agreement, and together the three women walked down the corridor and down the servants’ stairwells to the guest bedrooms. Once they reached Lady Theresa’s room, Plumette gasped at the sight, and Belle grimaced. She’d never seen a man in such a state in her life. Undressed, his middle covered by thin white sheets, and unmoving.

Lady Theresa avoided the body as best she could and motioned for them to take hold. She grabbed Mr. Holloway’s right shoulder, Belle his left, and Plumette his ankles. Together, they lifted Mr. Holloway’s body and carried him as quietly as they could down the halls to the bachelor guest rooms. The three women readjusted their grip often, sometimes causing the body to slip and knock against the floor which made Belle’s heart practically stop.

After what it seemed they had crossed the entire length of the country, they reached Mr. Holloway’s room. Plumette quietly put his ankles down and opened the door. The three women carried him into the room and Belle shut the door behind them, and then placed the body on the bed.

Lady Theresa pulled away the sheets and gave them to Plumette, and then proceeded to arrange Mr. Holloway’s body as naturally as possible.

Belle’s heart was still pounding from what she’d just done, and she couldn’t even admit it to herself. _She’d just carried a dead man across the length of the house._ The thought only made her more anxious, and she was eager to leave the room.

“Leave it, my lady,” Belle said as Lady Theresa was still fiddling with the body.

“But they’ll get suspicious…”

“No one will be suspicious. No one saw, no one has any reason to suspect,” Plumette added, clearly wanting to leave as well.

Lady Theresa gave the body a final look and walked towards the door. “I trust what has happened will stay between us,” she said.

“You’ll hear no argument from me,” Belle said.

“Me neither,” Plumette added.

The women traveled their separate ways; Lady Theresa to her room and Plumette and Belle back to the servants’ quarters.

Neither Belle nor Plumette spoke a word about what they’d just gone through, and the only words exchanged were a short “good night” as they got into their beds.

Belle closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep, but all she could see was Mr. Holloway’s body, his lifeless eyes staring back at her. She hoped should never have to speak of it again, and that the whole thing would pass over within the month.

She finally fell asleep after practically willing herself, and in the morning when the rest of the house heard of the news, she continued on, pretending as if she knew nothing about it.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!
> 
> Sorry about the long-ish wait, but here it is! As always, thank you for the kudos/reviews/support.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Kent_

_October 1912_

* * *

Belle swore she had just come to the library to polish the windows and dust that morning, but after an hour of being alone in the grand room, completely surrounded by books, her temptations gave in yet again.  

As the weeks passed, cleaning the library either by herself or in the company of the other maids had become part of her daily routine (much to Belle’s content). She found it put her mind at ease, especially with everything that’s happened with Mr. Holloway, and not to mention Lady Brankford’s schemes to replace Mr. Adam as heir with her own son.

Her worries all seemed to float away as she slowly descended the step ladder where she had been dusting one of the chandeliers and tip toed across the floor to the nearest shelf. But even so – she proceeded with caution. It felt as if a monster were sleeping in the same room and that and any noise whatsoever would awaken it. She was also constantly looking over her shoulder towards the door in case Mrs. Potts or Cogsworth walked by. Mr. Adam had gone riding that morning – so at least she didn’t have to worry about him at present.  

When she reached the shelf, Belle was overjoyed to find one of her favourites, _Romeo and Juliet_ sitting there, idle as can be.

This was not Belle’s first time pulling one of His Lordship’s books from their shelves to read as much as she could before getting back to work. In fact, she’d done so more times than she was willing to admit. But she couldn’t seem to stop. Without ever leaving the library, Belle traveled the world. It was as if she was getting her wish without spending a single pound.

Reading in such a way wasn’t ideal, however. It would be nice to read without spending half the time looking over her shoulder for passers-by that might catch her, and not to mention standing stiffly the whole time, unable to completely relax.

Belle was so engrossed in the play that she almost didn’t notice the sound of footsteps passing outside the door. As they grew closer, her heart practically stopped. Quickly, she placed the book back in its proper position on the shelf and returned to dusting the chandelier. She was just fast enough that Cogsworth hadn’t noticed her rushing as he entered the library. Belle hadn’t realized exactly how much time had passed as she read the play, but it was clear by the butler’s confused expression that it had longer than she thought.

“You’re still here?” Cogsworth asked in a gruff, baritone voice.

“Almost finished,” Belle replied.

“The servants’ luncheon is in half an hour, and I don’t suspect the others will be patient.”

Belle nodded her head. “Of course.”

The butler left without any further comment, and Belle hastily returned to her work, relieved the butler hadn’t caught her readings books that weren’t her own. Still, she couldn’t imagine actually _owning_ such a large collection – if she did, she would stay in the library and never come out (except, of course, when she was actually able to travel).

After finishing with the chandeliers, Belle gathered her supplies and headed down to the servants’ hall, where the kitchens maids were busy setting the table for luncheon. She put away the cleaning materials in one of the store closets and joined the gathering staff around the table.

“I said it once, and I’ll say it again,” Lumiere said, coming into the room and taking a seat at the table. “If I ever complain about meals when Mr. Adam is alone, remind me of the dinners last month.”

Belle laughed. “You’ve been saying that ever since they left.”

“And every day it’s true.”

Plumette entered the servants’ hall soon after, and sat across from Lumiere. Belle noticed that whenever the two made eye contact, Plumette forced a gentle smile that didn’t last long. Belle knew what was troubling her, of course. It wasn’t easy to be keeping not just one, but _two_ secrets from your sweetheart, especially two very big secrets.

Belle had told Plumette that it would be okay if she told Lumiere the truth about Mr. Holloway. He liked gossip, but would never share a story that involved Plumette.

Keeping both secrets for the past month had been a chore like any other in the house, and some days Belle longed to pour her heart out to someone, anyone. It was a blessing that Plumette knew everything too, but avoided the topic of Mr. Holloway all together, and still hadn’t decided on a time to tell Mr. Adam about the letter.

That fact, perhaps, was the most nerve racking. Sooner or later, Lady Brankford would discover the letter hadn’t been sent, and Belle dreaded to think what that would mean for her and Plumette’s positions.

“Belle?”

Her head snapped up, and realized Lumiere had been talking to her. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I was distracted.”

“My, you and Plumette both. Is there some big secret you’re keeping from us?”

“Of course not, just a lot of work to do. Now what were you asking?” Belle quickly changed the subject. There would be no more talk of secrets surrounded by the entire Theron staff, if she had anything to say about it.

“I was wondering what you were going to do with your half-day off?” Lumiere asked, picking a roll from the centre of the table.

Belle cleared her throat. “I’m planning on visiting my father,” she replied. “I’ve only been to the cottage a few times since taking the job here. He says he misses me very much.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yes… He’s never been on his own before,” Belle said rather slowly, as if realizing it herself for the first time. “But what about you? Do you and Plumette have something special planned?”

“Yes, we want to take a walk around Canterbury for the day. Perhaps have dinner at one of the pubs there,” the footman replied, smiling and looking at Plumette, whose attention was elsewhere.

“That sounds lovely,” she said.

“If only Plumette were more enthusiastic.”

“I’m sure she is.”

Lumiere smiled gratefully, and the luncheon passed with quiet conversation. Most of the staff were talking about what they were going to do with their half-days off, though Cogsworth was quick to remind them that a half-day meant a _half-day,_ and nothing more. He didn’t seem too excited with the idea of acting as the sole footman at dinner, even if it would be just Mr. Adam in the room.

After luncheon, Belle and Plumette went upstairs to their room to change for the afternoon. The endless list of chores they’d had when Mr. Adam’s relatives were staying had become less endless with their departure, and Belle felt as if she should be doing more. However, being less busy than before had allowed her time to sneak a few minutes of reading when she was supposed to be cleaning the library. It was foolish of her to be doing so, of course, knowing she could be easily caught by Cogsworth, or Mrs. Potts, or Mr. Adam, but she couldn’t help it.

When she’d been leaving at the cottage with her father she only had access to a few books, but in the Theron library, her options increased tenfold.

“Belle, another button fell off one of Mr. Adam’s coats. He’s asked you to mend it,” Plumette said as she secured a new bonnet on her hair.  

Belle sighed and rolled her eyes at Plumette’s request, though it wasn’t _technically_ a request given that it was Mr. Adam who had  asked it.

“Again?” she asked, tying the apron behind her back and securing the bonnet on her head. She was hoping to get a little time to herself before starting her afternoon chores. Evidently, Mr. Adam had other plans. “This is the fifth one this month. Soon he’ll have no more buttons to fall off his coats.”

Plumette laughed as she handed Belle the coat and loose button. “It is strange that the buttons would start falling off so suddenly.”

“It’s because he wants me to return it to him personally after it’s been mended. That’s why Chappeau doesn’t do them, even though he _should_ be.”

“Sounds to me like he fancies you,” Plumette teased, leaning against the door frame of their small room.

Over the past two months, Belle had added more sketches and small paintings from her father, and even one of his intricate music boxes that now sat on the chest of drawers. Its gold polished exterior seemed to breathe new life into the otherwise grey room.

“Mr. Adam does _not_ fancy me,” Belle insisted. “He’s bored, he’s looking for some form of entertainment. It’s getting rather annoying, I should tell him straight out.”

There was a pause between them, and Plumette looked down, averting her eyes from Belle’s gaze.

“Speaking of which,” Belle continued. “You still haven’t told Mr. Adam about Lady Brankford’s scheme. It’s been over a month and she is bound to notice the lack of reply.”

“I know, I know,” Plumette said in a frustrated tone. “But after that dreadful business with Mr. Holloway…”

“It did make things very difficult.” Belle confessed.

Though it had been a month since they’d carried his body from one side of Theron to the other, Belle still got anxious whenever they had to clean both Lady Theresa and Mr. Holloway’s rooms. She tried to tell herself that the whole business was behind her. They did nothing that morning to arouse any suspicion, and no one suspected anything.

Mr. George Holloway had passed of a heart attack, and that was that.

They’d heard no gossip from London, but then again, Theron seemed so cut off from the city that even if there was gossip about Mr. Holloway and Lady Theresa, it wouldn’t reach their ears.

“There has been no ideal time to bring it up,” Plumette said, her voice distraught. Belle knew that they would have to tell Mr. Adam as soon as possible. Their jobs were at stake, after all.

“We should today,” Belle decided. “When I bring his coat back to him. He’s bound to be in the library, he always is.”

Plumette smiled and nodded. “Right.”

The afternoon passed quickly and without commotion, and before Cogsworth rang the dressing gong, Plumette and Belle approached Mr. Adam in the library. Plumette was fidgeting with Lady Brankford’s letter in her hands, crinkling the ivory-coloured envelope. Belle had her employer’s mended coat in her hands, mentally stopping herself from fiddling with the buttons until they were once again loose.

“Pardon to interrupt, sir,” Belle said firmly as the two approached Mr. Adam, who was seating on a chaise longue and lost in another book.

He looked up at the two maids, at first slightly taken aback and annoyed by their interruption, but his expression softened upon seeing Belle.

“Yes?” Mr. Adam asked, setting down his book beside him.

“Your coat, sir,” Belle said, holding it out in her hands.

“Oh yes. Thank you,” he replied, as if forgetting he’d ever assigned her to mend it. He got up from his seat and took it from her, his fingers lingering a little too long against hers. It didn’t make Belle completely uncomfortable, in fact, she derived a sense of comfort by his slight touch. But when the coat was in Mr. Adam’s hands she quickly pulled away, not wanting to give him the wrong impression.

Plumette cleared her throat, and Mr. Adam blinked.

“Is there anything else?” He asked, setting the coat on the arm of the chaise and sitting back down.

“Yes, actually,” Plumette said, stepping forward a bit. “When the your relatives were staying here last month, I overheard something troubling from Lady Brankford.”

This caught Mr. Adam’s attention, and he straightened in his chair. “Oh, really?”

“Her ladyship was talking with Lady Theresa about replacing you as the heir of Theron with her own son, Mr. Edward,” she continued.

A deep silence hung in the air with Plumette’s words as Mr. Adam considered them. To Belle’s surprise, he didn’t seem shocked or taken aback by the news. Then again, by judging Lady Brankford’s character, she seemed like the type of person to usurp her nephew’s inheritance.

“That is troubling,” Mr. Adam finally answered. “But not entirely surprising. Aunt Margaret never liked me. She and my father have that in common.” The last sentence was said more to himself than anything, and in a quieter tone than his previous words. He looked back up at the maids. “Is that all?”

“There’s actually a letter that Lady Brankford wrote,” Plumette said, pulling out the letter from her skirt pocket. “To his Lordship. We assume it has to do with trying to convince him to replace you with Mr. Edward.”

Belle and Plumette gave a short glance to one another, hoping Mr. Adam didn’t suspect they had read it. He took the letter gratefully, but didn’t open it.

“Why didn’t you come to me before? It’s been over a month since they’d left,” he asked.

“We wanted to, sir,” Belle replied. “But with all the business regarding the late Mr. Holloway –”

“Yes, I understand. It must have been a shock for everyone downstairs.”

“Quite, sir,” Plumette said.

Mr. Adam nodded, but didn’t say anything. He looked at the letter again, considering it with great certainty. It was silent for a while, making Belle think he’d forgotten they were in the room with him. Finally he looked up from the letter.

“Thank you for telling me this,” he said sympathetically. “I’ll decide what to do next. I shouldn’t keep you from your work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Plumette said, and the two maids started to leave the library.

“And Belle!” Mr. Adam called. She turned, almost afraid of whatever he was about to say, but his expression was soft. “Thank you for mending my coat.”

“Not at all,” Belle smiled.

As the two maids left the library, Belle breathed a sigh of relief. First, because Mr. Adam hadn’t questioned whether they had opened the letter, and second, because it felt much better to only have the weight of one secret on her shoulders, as opposed to two.

* * *

When the two housemaids disappeared from Adam’s view, he took the letter in his hands and opened it with a letter opener from the bureau by the window. When Plumette and Belle had presented it to him, he’d gotten the sense that they already knew its contents. The very notion was cause enough for dismissal without a reference, but he knew they were only trying to help him, something people very seldom did. As such, he didn’t pursue the topic.

Adam scanned the contents of the letter, and as Plumette had said, they were indeed about his aunt’s scheme to replace him with his cousin as heir to Theron. While it wasn’t surprising that his aunt would plot such a thing is this, it infuriated him that if the letter had reached his father, he would have agreed to it.

He continued reading, and realized the plot was far worse that he’d imagined. _Marry within a year… forfeit everything to Edward…_

In his anger, Adam balled the parchment in his fist and tossed it in the fire, riding himself of its existence. When Aunt Margaret wondered why his father never received it, he’d say it could have simply got lost in the mail. He didn’t know what Plumette and Belle had gone through to acquire it, but he wouldn’t throw them under the bus. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he left the two maids to his aunt’s wrath.

Adam shook his head, trying to forget these scenarios. It was done with. The letter was gone, though knowing his aunt, she wouldn’t give up so easily.

He walked over to a polished table by the windows, which used to display a wealth of family portraits before his mother passed. His father had removed all of them, storing them away in the attic, probably. Most of them had been of Adam and his mother, though there had been a wedding photograph or two where both the bride and groom had looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there.

From a very young age, those photographs had taught him the relationship between his parents. An arranged marriage between the eldest son of an earl and the middle daughter of a viscount in which neither party had enough interest to conceive a second child.

His mother had never told him why they’d gotten married, though now he assumed it probably had to do with money. It always had to do with money. Though his mother’s father was only a viscount, they were incredibly rich, even richer than some of the dukes. He wanted her to marry up the ranks, and his father’s parents wanted her money to help get the estate back on its feet. And it had worked, for a while, until Adam started to gamble and spend all their money on clothes and expensive alcohol.

Now he was in the same position as his father, though he refused to marry like he did. Adam was _not_ a fortune hunter. He may be ashamed that his father hid him away in the country with a decreased allowance, out of sight and unable to cause trouble, but he still prided himself too much to marry a woman just for her fortune. He was better than that, at least, _he hoped he was._

Though it was scarcely past luncheon, Adam poured himself a glass of scotch from the crystal decanter on the table, and turned towards the chaise he’d been sitting on. His coat was there, resting on its arm, and he couldn’t help but smile.

He picked it up with his free hand and inspected the work done by Belle. It was perfect, he couldn’t even tell he’d ripped it off in the first place. He imagined her fingers doing the intricate work, and then imagined those fingers coursing through his hair, up and down his arms, along his back–

Adam shook his head and took a large sip of the alcohol. He was getting ahead of himself. Belle was the last person he could ever hope to be intimate with, and let alone marry.

Though, seeing her that day had given him a sense of joy no other woman had ever done, and he ached to see her again. Setting down his glass, he started to pull at another one of the coat’s buttons, but stopped himself before he completely tore the button from its seam. Belle would know he was doing it on purpose if it was from the same coat.

Abandoning his glass, he rushed upstairs to his room and pulled out another, older coat from his dressing room. With a single motion, he tore one of the buttons from the opening and ringed the bell beside his bed.

Within minutes, Chappeau entered the room.

“You called, sir?” he asked, in a somewhat bored tone.

Adam held out the coat and button. “It seems another button has fallen off one of my coats. Can you see that Belle mends it and brings it to me?”

“I’d be happy to mend it myself, sir,” the valet said, taking the coat and button from Adam’s hands. “I think the housemaids are quite busy–”

“Oh, nonsense, she be happy to,” Adam insisted, wishing now to be left alone.

“Alright, sir,” Chappeau grumbled. “Perhaps you should invest in better coats.” The valet left the room without saying anything else and Adam laid back on the bed, giving himself to thoughts of Belle.

During breakfast the next morning, another letter came from Ned. There hadn’t been many since the news of the late Mr. Holloway reached London, and Adam thought it was because Ned was trying to distance himself from it. In a way, Mr. Holloway’s death and been a blessing in disguise. Theron received no visitors after that, and he was sure his father wouldn’t attempt to push another eligible woman on him for quite some time.

Theron had been at peace for a month, though his aunt’s inheritance scheme and his own feelings for Belle certainly managed to complicate things.

Adam opened the letter, and read through its contents while taking small sips of his tea.

_To the Honourable Adam Savoy –_

_Adam,_

_I’m sorry I haven’t written lately, it’s this ghastly business with the late Mr. Holloway, the poor fellow. Mother and Father insisted I halted my letters to you, but they’re out this evening and what the eye doesn’t see, the heart can’t grieve over._

_The gossip about it had died down now, though there are a fair share of rumours concerning the situation. Some including the name of your cousin, but I shan’t bore you with it. It seems it’s causing enough trouble between her and her fiancé as it is._

_I hate being kept in the dark about why you’re stuck in the country, but nevertheless, I hope you’re having a pleasant time (though I can’t see how that’s possible without my parties to attend)._

_I should tell you – I’ve met a lovely young woman, Lady Caroline Weston, a daughter of the Duke of Warwick and we got on very well. I hope to see more of her, and I hope you’ll be able to meet her. She’s terribly smart and a very good hunter – so she says._

_I think my parents just returned from their dinner so I better be off. All the best to you._

_Your friend,_

_Ned._

As Adam finished reading the letter, he leaned back on his chair. He was jealous of his friend’s life, he admitted, and was surprised that he’d written despite his parents’ wishes to keep away. Though, Ned always had a rebellious nature.

He smiled as he read through the letter again, realizing it was the first time he read a letter from Ned with such fondness and admiration. Though he still couldn’t bring himself to write a reply, especially with all these supposed rumours spreading around the city concerning Mr. Holloway and Theresa.

It seemed ludicrous to him, that any unpleasant rumour should form about Theresa. Her mother was a schemer, to be sure, but Theresa had always prided herself in keeping out of it.

Adam thought back to that night, how he’d caught Mr. Holloway making advances on Theresa, though she seemed far less interested in what he’d been hoping for. Adam thought he’d scared the man well enough to discourage any further advances, but perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps Mr. Holloway had visited Theresa that night…

Taking another bite of his breakfast, he put the subject to rest. It was not what he wanted to be thinking first thing in the morning. Instead, he read his friend’s letter a third time.

* * *

Belle was already annoyed she hadn’t been able to sneak a few pages of reading in the library that morning, but that Mr. Adam had _once again_ asked her to mend another button on one of his coats made matters worse. It was clear to her now that he was only doing it to see her, and while she could admit seeing Mr. Adam was pleasant enough, it frustrated her that his only excuse was to add to her workload, like she had nothing better to do that mend his coats.

She did, however, find the time to mend the coat Chappeau had brought down the day before, but she was now prepared to tell him she didn’t care for his advances. She figured she wouldn’t be dismissed out of hand – _she hoped –_ but that Mr. Adam would respect her enough to agree with her.

Mr. Adam’s scandalous reputation had so far been proven wrong in Belle’s eyes, and she hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her.

Upon entering the library, her employer was once again on a chaise longue reading to his heart’s content, something Belle wished she could be able to do.

“Ah! Belle, good morning!” He smiled brightly, setting down his book.

“Good morning, sir,” Belle replied. “Your coat’s been mended.” She handed him the coat.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking it and setting it over the arm of the chaise. “I wish the damned buttons would stay on.”

“Please don’t pretend, sir,” Belle said, taking a deep breath and reminding herself not to raise her voice unnecessarily.

Mr. Adam gave her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know very well want I mean.”

“I just wish I could see more of you,” he sighed, catching on.

“We see plenty of each other, sir. Besides, I’d rather you not tear apart your clothing and add to my workload unnecessarily. I find it rather infuriating.”

He swallowed. “You’re right, I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.” Belle’s words left him speechless, and she continued. “These advances – the staff downstairs are starting to catch on. It’s dangerous, for me more than anything. If anyone were to suspect a more-than-friendly relationship between us, I could lose my job and have no reference. Of course, you wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of the consequents. Only endure a bit of scandal, which I’m sure you’re used to.” Belle gasped at her own words and mentally hit herself. “I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean to say any of those things. It just sort of came out.”

She averted her eyes from his gaze and her cheeks flushed a deep red. Now she’d done it. She’d gone simply to talk to him and now she would lose her job because of it. Sweat was beading down her forehead. But to her surprise, Mr. Adam didn’t dismiss her or lose his temper.

“To be honest, I think I deserved that,” he said, the corner of his lips curling into a soft smile. He stood from the chaise and approached her. “I want to make your work experience here as comfortable as possible,” he said. “And I’m sorry if I’ve interfered with that in any way. Of course, I’ll respect your wishes.”

“That’s all I ask,” Belle said, a wave of relief rushing through her. They stood together in silence for a moment, until Belle gazed at the clock.

“I should get back to work, Mrs. Potts is expecting me.”

“Yes of course,” he replied, shaking himself out of his daze. “I shouldn’t want to anger Mrs. Potts.”

Belle smiled and left, but once again, Mr. Adam’s voice stopped her.

“Belle!” He called out, like he had the day before. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saying those things to me. I mean it.”

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled again, and she left the room, much happier than when she’d gone in.

* * *

The days at Theron started to blur together for Belle. Almost every day was the same routine of cleaning, eating, and more cleaning. However, she tried not to let the repetition get her down. She did, after all, sneak in a few hours’ worth of reading in the library each week, and she had yet to be discovered. Though with any luck, she _wouldn’t_ be.

Finally, her half-day off came, and after cleaning the breakfast room with Plumette, she raced back up to her room to change. After changing from her maid’s dress to a simply blue frock, she said goodbye to the servants in the hall and walked from Theron down to the village.

The air was cold in the late October morning, and the leaves on the trees surrounding the estate shone orange, red, and yellow. Many of the leaves had already fallen to the ground, though the gardeners were busy raking them from the manicured lawn.

Belle pulled her coat a little tighter over her shoulders as she left the Theron grounds and entered the village. Her father’s cottage was only a ten-minute walk, and though she enjoyed autumn very much, she was much too excited to see her father again.

She’d made visits down to the cottage before, of course, but Mrs. Potts only granted so many half-days it made it seem as though she never saw her father anymore, especially after living with him her whole life. It had only been a week or two ago when she’d received a letter from her father addressed from a modest hotel in London. He explained that he was there to sell his music boxes at one of the pop-up markets, and was bringing her back something special. _That was her father, always mysterious,_ she thought as she turned down the street towards the cottage.

Brighton Crescent, named for a chap from the village who’d fought in the Boer Wars, was a tiny little street lined with stone cottages of varying sizes. A family-run general store lay at the street’s end, which had always made errands more convenient during the winter.

As Belle approached the cottage, she could see that her father was already outside, checking on the winter vegetables.

“I hope I’ll be able to bring back some of your famous butternut squash for the others to try,” Belle said, smiling and coming up towards the gate.

Maurice wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up. He extended his arms towards her and she hugged her father tightly.

“You’re lucky,” he said once they separated. “The crops have been good this autumn.”

“And how was London?” She asked with a curious smile.

“Same as always,” he replied. “Too large and too busy.” He gestured for her to enter the small cottage, and he followed her in. “Sales were good, though,” he continued, putting a kettle of water on the stove to boil.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Belle said, sitting at the small wooden table in the kitchen. After setting out a set of modest china tea cups and saucers, he walked over to the far side of the room and brought over a tall brown paper package.

“And, I got this for you,” he said, handing her the package.

“Thank you.” Belle had a feeling she already knew what the parcel contained, but she still smiled curiously as she untied the twine and opened it. She gasped in delight. Wrapped in the brown paper, were two red roses, bright crimson.

“They’re beautiful, Papa!” She exclaimed, giving her father a kiss on the cheek. Maurice laughed. “Just because you live at the big house now doesn’t mean I can’t still get you your favourite item from London. And besides, they’ll add some colour to your room, I think.”

“They certainly will, how wonderful!”

The next few hours passed in light conversation, mainly about Belle’s time as a housemaid. Eventually the topic of Mr. Adam’s advances came up, and Belle blushed. “I’m afraid I gave him a rather harsh telling-off,” she admitted, taking a sip of her tea.

“And yet, you’re still employed.”

“Yes…” Belle trailed off for a moment, thinking pensively. “He’s not like what his reputation perceives him as.” And it was true. When she’d started at Theron, she assumed Mr. Adam would be quick to raise him voice, lose his temper, perhaps throw a crystal scotch glass or two at the wall. Granted, he _did_ keep to himself most days, skulking around the estate. But when she and Mr. Adam talked, he seemed like an ordinary gentleman struggling with the idea of marriage. Suddenly, it didn’t seem fair to Belle, that his Lordship sentence his son into a marriage with no hope of love. But then again, she didn’t know what he got up to in London before being sent to Theron.

“Speaking of…” Maurice took his tea cup and saucer over to the sink, and then took Belle’s as well. “That Mr. Leroux has been asking after you.”

Belle groaned. It was bad enough he’d annoyed _her_ with advances almost every day, but it was worse to think that her father was now bearing the brunt of it with her living at the big house.

“I’ve told him day in and day out that you’re not interested, but he can’t seem to get it through his thick skull,” he explained with a slight chuckle.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Belle sighed. “I trust you haven’t been sharing when my half-days are?”

“Now what kind of father would I be if I did that?” He smiled encouragingly.

“If he ever shows up at the servants’ entrance at the big house, I’m sure Cogsworth would give him a piece of his mind.” She looked at the small mantel clock above the fire place. “Speaking of which, it’s time I headed back. Mrs. Potts will be very cross if I’m not back in time for the dressing gong.”

Maurice stood and kissed her on the forehead. “Well, then I won’t keep you. If you’re able to come back in a week or so, those squashes should be ready to harvest. And,” he walked over to his small corner studio, behind a large wooden easel. “A few more sketches,” he said, handing her a small stack of parchment.

“Oh, these are beautiful,” Belle gasped, looking at each of the sketches. There were a few of Belle as a child, in the arms of her mother, some of the garden, and one of Theron. The detail her father captured of the estate nearly took her breath away.

“When did you find the time to do this?” She asked, showing her father the sketch of Theron.

“After I dropped you off that first day, I stood on the grounds of the estate for a long while, and over the next few weeks I started sketching it. Some from memory, some from actually setting up the easel there.” He paused for a moment. “Mainly, it was to remind myself that you’re not alone in that big house.”

“I appreciate it,” Belle smiled warmly. “And I have friends, I promise.”

They laughed together for a moment.

“I’m not an outsider.” _Not like here._ The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let them be heard.

“I didn’t think you’d be,” Maurice replied, walking her to the front door. He kissed her on the cheek, and then Belle was off, walking back to Theron with both the roses and the sketches in hand. It just occurred to her how her father might have been worried about her being an outsider at Theron, like she was in the village. She hadn’t worried too much because in her eyes, Theron was a place of employment to eventually allow her to follow her dreams. Making friends had been completely secondary. But now, she couldn’t imagine working without Plumette, or Lumiere, or Mrs. Potts, or even Cogsworth.

After only two months of working there, Theron was really starting to feel like a second home, and its staff her family.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> Things are starting to pick up, I think! And I'm quite proud of myself for sticking in a few Downton lines in this chapter. As always, thank you for your kudos/comments/support!
> 
> Enjoy :)

_Kent_

_November 1912_

* * *

Snowfall in London was a strange thing. On one hand, it was beautiful as the flakes glittered in the sky and fell over the city, covering the trees and buildings in a thin layer of white. But of course, the motor cars and smog caused the snow to become dark and slushy, and generally unpleasant.

That wasn't the case at Theron.

When the first snows covered the estate grounds in sparkling white powder, it seemed as if Theron were in a dream.

Gazing out his bedroom window at the snowfall that morning, Adam felt as if he were seeing the grounds for the first time. It felt rather silly, but after spending close to eight months trapped at the country estate, that early November morning felt like everything was new, that the snow had covered all his past mistakes.

Of course, Adam knew it didn't work that way. No matter how hard he tried, he could never recover the money he'd lost gambling, or the favour of the people he'd crossed too many times. And though he wanted to respect Belle's request to stay at a distance, he found it reminded him of yet another mistake he'd made. At least she hadn't handed in her notice. For that, he was truly grateful.

Just as he was about to enter the breakfast room after getting dressed, he remembered he'd left the book he was currently reading ( _Twelfth Night,_ for the fifth time) in the library, and went to fetch it.

It wasn't surprising, of course, to see a maid in there already, dusting the chandeliers or polishing the windows. But the maid happened to be Belle, and instead of cleaning, she was leaning against one of the shelves in the corner.

Reading.

Adam laughed, he couldn't help it. Thankfully, the girl was too engrossed in the story to notice he'd entered. He watched her, how she smiled at every line, how her eyes practically glowed in excitement, and he almost admired her for it. Not many servants would be brave enough to do what she was doing. Finally, he spoke up from across the room.

"I pray Cogsworth or Mrs. Potts haven't caught you reading in here," he said.

Belle gasped as her gaze jolted up. She fumbled with the book as she closed it rather quickly. "I'm so sorry, sir, I wasn't thinking–"

Adam held up a hand to stop her. "There's no need to apologize. I quite understand the temptations of being surrounded by books but not getting to read any of them." Well, perhaps he didn't exactly  _understand,_ but he knew he would be terribly frustrated in that position, in any case.

Belle smiled and returned the book to its proper spot on the shelf, and then smoothed down her dress. She stood very still, and worry still covered her face. No doubt she was still expecting some sort of verbal lashing, or for him to tell Mrs. Potts about her behaviour. But Adam only smiled to hopefully dissolve any of those worries.

"What were you reading?" He asked, approaching her slowly.

" _Romeo and Juliet_ ," she said, smiling softly. "It's my favourite play."

Adam fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he failed rather spectacularly.  _Why was he not surprised?_ "Surely you can do better than that," he laughed. Judging by Belle's hardened gaze, she did not agree.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" She asked, her tone growing a bit louder and a bit more confident.

"Well, all the heartache… and the pining, and…" he made a slightly disgusted noise. He couldn't find the right words to describe who much he  _detested_ that play. "There are so many better things to read."

"In case you haven't noticed, I hardly have enough free time to read the books here."

Adam realized that were true, and the village didn't even have a library. There was a schoolhouse, of course, but he doubted the strict headmaster ever allowed her to borrow the books. He gazed over at a list on the large centre table beneath one of the windows and his eyes lit up with an idea. "You could… if you borrowed them."

Belle gave him a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"My father uses a ledger to keep track of who's reading which book. I could always sigh a few out in my name for you."

Belle's face lit up with glee, and Adam couldn't deny the same feeling swelling in his chest. "His Lordship doesn't let the servants sign books out themselves?" She asked.

"Heavens, no," he replied. It was sad, but true. Adam's father never trusted any of the servants that worked for him, not even Cogsworth who'd been working at Theron since Adam was a very young boy. His father thought they would all succumb to the temptations of theft. "My father prefers the servants to read the Bible and letters from home."

"How unfortunate."

"It is, quite," Adam sighed. "This number of books should never go unread." He gazed around the library thoughtfully, taking in all the books even  _he_ hadn't read. He really must get on that. He looked back a Belle. "But I'm glad you've taken an interest. Extremely glad. Now, do you accept my offer?"

"Of course! I'm ever so grateful." Belle was practically jumping for joy, he could tell.

"Wonderful. You can usually find me here so just tell what books you want to borrow and I can sigh them out for you." He walked over to the bureau and fetched the book he'd come to get. "Now, I should be going to breakfast for Cogsworth will think I've run away. Good day."

"Good day," Belle replied.

As he left the library, his lips curved into a smile at the sound of a soft cry of delight from Belle.

* * *

"But why must we polish the silver again?"

Lumiere rolled his eyes at the young footman's complaint. Jasper was new, and had never been a footman until June, when he was taken on. Before then, he'd been working at a hotel, but it had downsized its staff and Jasper had paid the price.

He was a good worker, to be sure, though Lumiere did find it mildly infuriating that the young man was over six foot two. Jasper was a whole four inches taller than him, and even taller than Cogsworth. The butler never would have taken him on, but his Lordship had been in a rush to get the estate back up to scratch now that Mr. Adam was entertaining young women and their families.

While Lord Villeneuve and his son spent most of the year in London or traveling, the staff at Theron had been minimal, mainly because his Lordship didn't want to pay for staff that had nothing to do (though Cogsworth would no doubt prove there was  _always_ something to do). After it was announced Mr. Adam would return for the foreseeable future, the staff increased. One footman turned into three. Three housemaids turned into seven.

"It's only Mr. Adam in the house, and he hasn't used it since we last polished it," Jasper continued. "And it's not like his Lordship will be inviting anyone here, not after Mr. Holloway died in his own bed."

Lumiere paused his vigorous shining of the silverware to face the footman. "Because," he started, "Cogsworth wants to keep Theron up to the mark, and I quite agree with him. Once we start slacking it all goes down the drain."

"Do you really believe that?" This time, Jasper wasn't complaining, but sounded genuinely curious.

Lumiere considered what he'd said. Truthfully, life in service was all he ever knew. Both his parents had been in service, and he started working at Theron at the age of fifteen, as a hall boy. Over the years, through hard work and diligence, he managed to make it up to first footman, and hoped someday to be a butler. Since birth, the ideals of working in service had been drilled into his mind, and to Lumiere, they were very good ideals.

"I think so," Lumiere said, finally. He picked up an intricate candelabra that belonged in the dining room and started to polish it. "I'm not too anxious for change."

"I seem to be surrounded by it," Jasper admitted.

"Oh, really?"

"Well, my father had one of those jobs that requires you to move around a lot, so we were never in the same place for more than a year or two. Then when he died my mum and I set up in London. She had a flower shop, and I worked there for a while. After that I got a job at a hotel and now I'm here."

"And your mother is fine with you having a job away from the city?"

"I think she was thrilled that I would be working in a great house. She said I could make it all the way to the top, though I doubt I want to take it that far. I don't think I'm meant to be working in service for my whole life."

Lumiere nodded, though admittedly the tiniest bit disappointed. He knew service wasn't for everyone, but he would have though anyone would be proud to be employed in a great house such as Theron. The two footmen polished in silence for a while until he spotted Cogsworth passing by.

"Cogsworth!" the footman called, putting down the silver. The butler stopped and peeked into the small room, wearing his usual unamused expression.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a minute? I… need to ask you something."

Cogsworth thought for a moment. "Come to my sitting room, and it  _better_ be a minute."

Lumiere nodded anxiously and followed the butler into the small sitting room at the end of the passage. Though it was  _called_ a sitting room, it was more the butler's office. Inside were ledgers, books, bottles of wine, and anything else that had to do with the running of the house. Lumiere, he was glad to say, never really spent time in the room. Those that did were either Mrs. Potts or in trouble, and it was not pleasant to be on the receiving end when you were in trouble with Cogsworth.

The butler closed the door and took a seat behind the bureau. Lumiere remained standing only because he would be too fidgety otherwise.

"Now what seems to be the problem, pray tell?" The butler asked.

"Not a problem, so much, as a request."

"Oh?"

"Now I know you don't necessarily… approve of the relationship between Plumette and I, but we are genuinely in love."

Cogsworth raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it has been noticeable on one or two occasions…" he said rather dryly.

"Well, Plumette doesn't talk to her parents, so I was wondering if I should ask you for permission to marry her?"

The butler blinked. It was not reassuring. "You what?"

Right as he thought he was done for, Mrs. Potts opened the door of the sitting room. "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were busy," she said and made to leave.

"Lumiere wants to marry Plumette," Cogsworth spoke up, causing the housekeeper to stop in her tracks. She looked out into the passage, and then entered the sitting room and shut the door.

"And why shouldn't he?" Mrs. Potts asked, a smile creeping up on her face. "To be honest, I'm surprised it took you this long."

The footman's face lit up at the housekeeper's response. "So can I ask her?"

"Lumiere, may I remind you that you answer to me, not Mrs. Potts?" Cogsworth said stiffly.

"And Plumette is under my command," Mrs. Potts said. Cogsworth remained unconvinced. "Oh, let them," she continued. "It would be nice to have  _one_ wedding to look forward to instead of waiting a decade for Mr. Adam to choose a bride, and that's _if_  he does."

The footman smiled at Mrs. Potts, and then turned to the butler, praying he would relent. Finally, Cogsworth relaxed.

"Oh, all right," he huffed, making Lumiere breathe a sigh of relief. "And only because you would find a way to get married without my permission anyway."

The footman couldn't help but laugh, and knew it was true. He didn't know what would've happened if Cogsworth had refused him, but he would have found a way to marry Plumette anyway, even if it meant eloping.

"When are you going to ask her?" Mrs. Potts asked.

"Heavens, I don't know," he confessed. "Sometime special."

"Well, don't put if off too long."

"I don't think I could even if I tried."

* * *

Belle found Mr. Adam in the library later that day, before the dressing gong, just like he said. She had a short break from her work, and no one knew she was up here, not even Plumette. She figured she would tell her that evening. After all, it would be obvious when she brought a few books that were clearly not her own back to their room.

It almost felt odd, entering the library not to work, but to meet her employer. It was practically a scandal in the making. Luckily, the papers never seemed interested in the happenings on of Theron Hall, at least, not for some time.

His face lit up as she entered the room. "I was starting to think you weren't coming," he said, setting down his book and rising from his seat.

"I was able to get away for a bit, now that I don't have your coats to mend," she replied, making him laugh.

"Have you thought about what you want to borrow?"

"I have thought about it…" but in truth, she didn't know where to start. The library contained more books than she'd ever seen in her life.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Belle asked, gazing around the room in awe. Even though it all wasn't hers, it almost felt like it was.

She gazed back at Mr. Adam, whose face lit up. She wanted to borrow Romeo and Juliet, of course. It would be nice to read it in peace and not worry about who might enter the library every five minutes.

"If you love Shakespeare so much, I recommend  _Hamle_ t, one of my favourites. And, of course there's  _Lancelot and Guinevere_ , and  _Sense and Sensibility_..." He was practically darting across the room to find these books, most of which surprised her. She laughed at his enthusiasm, he was as giddy as a schoolboy.

"I wouldn't take you for a lover of romance novels." She couldn't help but smile.

"I'm allowed to be sentimental every once and a while, I think. And besides, it's nice to read about relationships so much better than your own. It almost makes you forget..." He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. His expression dropped, and he looked away from her, almost in shame.

Belle looked at him curiously. "Forget what?"

"I guess they haven't told you why I'm trapped here." He laughed a little, but sadness laced his tone as he stared at the small stack of books in his hands.

"Plumette told me that you'd been spending a lot of money, but I didn't think it was my business," she replied.

"That's something you don't typically here from the downstairs staff. I think there's more gossip in the servants' hall than there is in the drawing room."

"Not in our servants' hall, I'm afraid," Belle said. "Lumiere likes to gossip when he can, but in truth, there's not much to gossip  _about._ And, of course, the topic the late Mr. Holloway has been exhausted beyond belief."

Adam nodded, but she couldn't tell if he was pleased with the lack of gossip. He set the stack of books down on one of the small side tables, thinking carefully.

"The thing is," he started, "sooner or later, my father will force me to marry. I've put it off for half a year and he's determined to saddle me with a wealthy woman to bring more money into the estate. My marriage will be just as loveless as my parents', something I was determined to avoid. And, of course, my aunt seems bent on replacing me as heir with her son."

Belle nodded, taking in the confession. It wasn't normally something for an employer to tell a staff member their secrets, particularly a junior staff member.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I should have expected this though. I wasn't exactly a saint in London, and now I've resigned to living like ghastly father."

When Belle didn't respond, Mr. Adam clearly understood why.

"But don't tell Mrs. Potts or Cogsworth I've said those things," he added with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Despite her better judgement, Belle approached Mr. Adam, but not so close as to cause a scandal. It was clear the topic was bothering him, and she felt as if she caused it by bringing it up.

"Can't you get away from it all? Leave it all behind and just live?" Belle asked, thinking of the countless places she wanted to travel to, to experience. Mr. Adam scoffed.

"And do what? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly cut out for a middle-class life." She knew he was trying to play it off as a joke, but his expression was hardened, and his words becoming sharp.

"I'm sorry if I've angered you," Belle said.

"My life makes me angry, not you," he sighed and gazed at her, offering her a warm smile. Belle smiled back, and the two were silent for a moment. It was an odd thing, just staring into the bright blue eyes of her employer like he was a lifelong friend. And in some ways, especially now, she did feel as if she'd known him all her life. They were two kindred spirits in the Theron library, marveling over their mutual appreciation for it.

After a moment, Belle caught herself and broke eye contact, looking away slightly flushed.

"Please, take these," he said, handing her the small stack of books. "I promise you'll enjoy them."

Belle took them gratefully, and once again her fingers lingered when they made contact with his, but only for moment.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "And thank you for letting me borrow them, truly."

"You're welcome," Mr. Adam said, smiling warmly. "It's nice to have someone else to appreciates it."

Belle nodded, and as she left the library in a quick saunter, she ran into Mrs. Potts who was at the door. The housekeeper looked down at the books, and then back up at her. Her expression was hard to read. It was a mix of understanding, worry, and warning. She clearly had a good idea of what had happened.

"Careful, my girl," Mrs. Potts said in a low tone. "Or you'll end up with no job  _and_ a broken heart."

The housemaid knew the warning was to her benefit, and it made her wonder how long she'd been listening.

"There's nothing–" Belle tried to explain, but was cut off by the housekeeper raising her hand.

"I know, but others are quicker to spread gossip than I. Now, you're needed in the dining room. Cogsworth is about to ring the dressing gong." The housekeeper offered her a smile to reassure her that she was on her side, to which Belle smiled back and rushed off to her room to drop off the books.

It still seemed unbelievable she would be able to read those books in peace, without the terror of someone walking into the library. She would enjoy these books very much indeed.

* * *

Moments after Belle had left the library in a happy rush, Mrs. Potts entered, taking slow steps towards him. The skeleton keys attached to the skirt of her dress rattled together as she walked, reminding him of the toys his mother let him play with as a child.

The housekeeper usually didn't need to bother him with anything during the day, which made Adam wonder why she was seeing him now.

"Was that Belle I saw leaving?" She asked in a soft voice. At once, Adam knew what was happening. There wasn't any anger or shock in her tone – which was normal, she was strict but Mrs. Potts wasn't one to be angry – which he took as a good sign.

"How much did you hear?" Adam asked. There was no use putting off the topic or denying it.

"Enough," she replied, sighing. "I just want you to be careful. I know you know this, but if you try to make a go of this relationship, it'll only end in tears."

"I tell myself that every day," he confessed. "But is it so wrong to have a friend in the house, someone who will appreciate all this as much as I?"

"Of course not, sir, but… others may get the wrong idea, and if it gets back to his Lordship…"

There was no need to finish the sentence, Adam knew what the consequences were if his father were to find out about any relationship between him and a housemaid.

"I just can't bear to see you heartbroken," Mrs. Potts said earnestly. "Losing her Ladyship was terrible enough for you, I don't want to see you go through it again."

Adam nodded solemnly. He didn't remember much of his childhood after his mother had passed away, only that he'd hardly been at Theron.

Mrs. Potts offered him a comforting smile. "I won't betray you to Cogsworth," she said. "You know he'd make a right mess of things."

He couldn't help but laugh a little. While the butler might not betray him to his father, he would find it very difficult not to reprimand Belle for what he'd done.

The sound of the gong filled the house, and Mrs. Potts excused herself.

"You know, times are changing," Adam said to her as she made her way to the library's exit.

She looked back at him with sympathy in her eyes. "They are, sir. But not fast enough for you, I'm afraid."

* * *

"You seemed very happy during dinner," Plumette said as she braided her long brown hair for the evening. She smiled at Belle through the mirror, and she couldn't help but blush a little.

It was true that she had been terribly happy during dinner. The excitement of being able to relax with a book before bed made her burst with joy, though she tried to hide it from the other servants. While they had been going on about some such fair later in the month, she'd been in her own little world, pulled out only a few times by Plumette.

Belle smiled at her as she climbed into her bed and pulled the covers over her knees. "Mr. Adam has let me borrow some books from the library," she said, feeling like it was almost impossible to  _not_ smile.

Plumette's eyes widened, in both a mixture of shock and surprise. A smile grew on her lips. "He never!" She exclaimed. "Why did he do that?"

"He… he caught me reading some of them when I was supposed to be doing my chores. I almost had a heart attack when he came in, I thought he was going to sack me on the spot."

"You're lucky," Plumette said, climbing into her own bed. "Mr. Adam's not usually so generous when it comes to his books." She almost winked at her.

Belle rolled her eyes. "He's not sweet on me," she insisted. "He's just being generous. He said it was nice to have another person as interested in the library as him." She paused for a moment, thinking. "And besides, Mrs. Potts gave a warning to be careful, but nothing could happen even if I wanted it to. It could never happen."

Plumette shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

Belle scoffed and rolled her eyes. "In novels, perhaps."

"Well, don't stay up too late."

"I'll try not to." She'd try, but how  _hard_ she would try, that was another question altogether.

Plumette turned off her oil lamp on her bedside table and laid back on her bed, while Belle picked up the book on the top of the stack –  _Sense and Sensibility._ She opened the cover, which revealed a small note inside. She thought it might something left there long ago, but it was addressed to  _her._

_Belle –_

_I do hope you find this story enjoyable, as it's one of my own favourites. I find myself sympathizing with Mr. Edward Ferrars, and I'm sure you'll see why once you read it._

_I look forward to hearing your thoughts,_

_– Adam_

Belle blushed as she read the note over, and tried to contain any noise to not disturb Plumette.  _He knew that she would ask for suggestions,_ she realized. Or perhaps, he would have recommended the books either way.  _It doesn't matter now,_  she thought as she opened it to the first page. She couldn't wait any longer to discover Mr. Adam's kinship with this Mr. Ferrars.

* * *

Over the next few days, Adam saw more and more of Belle as she continued to borrow books from the library. More often than naught, he would just so happen find himself in the library while Belle was cleaning, and they would talk and talk about the books she was reading.

"What a horrid family that Mr. Ferrars has," Belle had commented one morning while polishing the windows.

"You see why I empathize with him," Adam replied, laughing softly.

"But he was quite honourable, as he intended to go through with a marriage even though he clearly loved Elinor Dashwood more. Not many people would do the same," she added.

"Luckily for him, Lucy Steele was not so honourable."

"Lucky for Elinor, too."

By the time Belle was done with the library for the day, it felt as if they had been talking for hours, at first about books, but gradually, as the days passed, their conversations drifted into much more personal topics. He had told some things to Belle that he'd never told anyone, and she told him her wishes and dreams. They were quite intimate conversations, to say the least, though Mrs. Potts's warning was constantly ringing in his ears.

_Times are changing, but not fast enough for you, I'm afraid._

Nevertheless, it had become Adam's favourite part of the day, and as Belle borrowed more books and they spent more time together, he started to feel less and less trapped in the house.

Of course, he wanted to do more with Belle than just talk about books. He wanted to take her riding, to dance with her in the front parlour, to take her to London. All these things he couldn't do without, at the very least, raise suspicions, and at the most cause Belle to lose her job without the hope of a decent reference.

Adam couldn't do that to her, she deserved too much to lose her job because he was being a reckless fool.

One morning, as snow was falling in thick flakes outside the window, Adam entered the library to find that Belle was not in. He had half a mind to ring for her, or to ask Mrs. Potts, but decided against it.

As he sat in his usual chair below one of the windows, he eyed the copy of  _Hamlet_ he'd lent to Belle. It hadn't been there the previous night, so she must have returned it early this morning, perhaps even before he'd come down for breakfast.

Adam ran his hand along the book's leather-bound cover, upset at the missed opportunity to discuss the book with Belle. He wondered if he might have been able to convince her that this play was far superior to  _Romeo and Juliet,_ though he doubted it. Even  _he_ couldn't change some things.

He opened front cover, and a folded piece of parchment tumbled out. Furrowing his brow, Adam picked it up and saw that it was a note, a rather short note, written in an elegant script.

_Remember this, above all – to thine own self be true._

Heat rushed to Adam's cheeks as he read the note. Though it wasn't sighed, it was obviously from Belle. He handled the note delicately, as if it would disappear before his eyes or turn to dust, and tucked in into the inside pocket of his coat.

It wasn't a subtle message, not in the least, but all the better that it was one of his favourite lines from the play. Adam knew she must be referencing his marriage ordeal. He'd once said to her that marrying a woman for her fortune was so unlike him, even though his father thought differently. He couldn't be what his father wanted him to be, or his aunts, or anyone else for that matter.

Adam pulled out the note and gazed at it again, smiling uncontrollably. He realized it was the first possession he'd received from Belle, and it felt just a precious any of the books in the library.

There was a knock at the door, and he was quick to tuck away the note as Cogsworth entered with a silver tray.

"A letter for you, sir," the butler said. "From his Lordship," he added, his voice grave.

A chill ran down Adam's spine as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts of what the letter could contain. It was the first letter he'd received from his father since he informed him his relatives would be staying for a few days. His heart pounding, he took the envelope and letter opener from the tray, and after he tore the paper and set the letter opener back on the tray he dismissed Cogsworth. It was never ideal to be in Adam's presence when he read letters from his father.

As he read through the letter's contents, his heart dropped to the floor.

_You've been wasting too much time at Theron…_

_You must marry a suitable woman with a significant dowry within a year or the estate, title, and inheritance will be forfeited to your cousin, Edward…_

_I won't tolerate anything less…_

Adam couldn't move. He couldn't  _think._ It was all happening too quickly. He suspected he'd be forced to marry sooner or later but… within a year… He couldn't do it, but he couldn't let the estate and title fall into the hands of his scheming aunt. Of that, he was certain.

If he were alone in the house, he would have screamed until his lungs gave out.  _How had his father gotten the idea to make Edward his heir? How?_ He'd burned the letter Plumette and Belle had given him. Unless… unless that wasn't the only letter. Aunt Margaret must have suspected something like this would happen and had sent out a second letter herself.

Good God almighty… he had to marry within a year. He had to marry a woman with good prospects, a woman he would never love.

"Are you alright, sir?" A voice came from the entrance of the library, and Adam jolted around to see Belle, looking worried and carrying a mountain of cleaning supplies.

Adam didn't say anything, but he knew the look in his eyes betrayed him. The letter felt hot and heavy in his hands and he had to set it down on one of the side tables to keep it from burning a hole through his fingers.

"Sir?" Belle asked again, setting down her supplies and approaching him.

"A letter came. From my father," he said, his voice almost cracking. Belle didn't say anything, just stared at him with a worried expression. "He says…" he closed his eyes, as if he could will the words not to be true. "He says I have to marry within a year, or everything will go to Cousin Edward. It seemed Aunt Margaret was able to send that letter to him after all." His tone was harsh and bitter, and he sat on one the chairs, his face in his hands.

"What am I going to do?" His voice was trembling now, and his eyes were on the verge of tears. Normally, he didn't like to cry in front of the servants, or anyone for that matter, but it felt so normal with Belle, it felt alright.

"Maybe it'll be fine," Belle said softly, moving closer to him. She didn't sit next to him as he would have liked, but he understood. The servants weren't to sit in the presence of their employer, that would've be drilled into their minds from their first day.

"Perhaps, you'll meet a nice woman, and all will be well," she continued.

Adam shook his head. "It would never be honest. I have to marry a woman for her fortune. I'm a fortune hunter, just like my father was." Tears were rolling down his cheeks now, and his quiet sobs filled the library.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, rubbing away his tears with a handkerchief. "I'll pull myself together."

"Don't apologize, you have every right to be upset. And perhaps you'll be able to convince your father otherwise."

"Not likely," Adam scoffed. "Knowing him, it's probably been written into his will." Despite the situation, Belle laughed, and it made Adam feel a little better. "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this," he added. "Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts will find out soon enough but other than that… I don't want this to be the topic of discussion downstairs."

"You insult me if you think I was going to tell anyone," she replied. Adam nodded gratefully, but soon his gaze shifted back to the letter on the table. It still didn't seem real to him. One moment he'd been so blissful reading Belle's note, and then the next, it had all been taken away.

"Well, you've got the rest of the year to worry about it," Belle said, moving back towards her cleaning supplies. "Now, shall we discuss  _Hamlet,_ or are you going to spend our precious time together moping?"


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience! In the previous chapter LadyIscaylis324 made a note that a peer could not legally disinherit his heir. While I like to keep things as historically accurate as possible, I did bend the rules of peerage succession to raise the stakes for Adam. So this aspect of the story is inaccurate in terms of succession rules, just letting you guys know. 
> 
> Another note, a _shilling_ is worth twelve pence/pennies, and _sixpence_ is worth six pence (half a shilling). Twenty shillings make a pound. I'm not an expert on British currency, if I don't know if the prices of the items mentioned are at all accurate, so please bear with me. 
> 
> WARNING: There are mild elements of non-con later in this chapter. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your comments/kudos/support. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Kent_

_November 1912_

* * *

A knock on the door woke Belle from her sleep, as it did every morning. She blinked away the tiredness, thought that was a chore in of itself lately, now that she stayed up reading almost every night.

"6 o'clock!" Ella, the kitchen maid, shouted from the other side of the door.

Belle sat up in her bed and turned on the oil lamp on her bedside table, and then reached over to nudge Plumette awake.

"6 o'clock," Belle said tiredly.

Plumette rolled in the sheets, and then rubbed her eyes. "Just one I would like to sleep until I woke up normal."

"That sounds lovely," Belle replied, already changing out of her nightgown and into her maids' dress.

"Tell me, has Mr. Adam left you any more notes?" Plumette rested on her elbows on the bed, and her lips curved up into a curious smile. Belle scoffed as she tied her apron behind her back, but didn't say anything. Apparently, her silence was response enough. "How many?"

"A few," Belle teased. In reality though, it was more than a few. He'd left her notes in almost every book she borrowed. In return, she'd leave him notes as well, sometimes tucked in the cover or the pages. As much as they discussed the books she read, they never really talked about their notes. He never brought it up, and she never dared to ask. But it never bothered her; it was nice to have a secret between her and Mr. Adam, even if Plumette knew most of it. And besides, Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts would not take kindly to a maid sharing notes with her employer.

Sometimes Belle wondered if she should be doing this at all, if she was taking too much of a risk with her future. But being able to borrow and read books from a library as grand as Theron's was something she couldn't deny herself.

The servants' hall was buzzing with energy when Belle and Plumette arrived for their breakfast, as it always was. Cogsworth was reading the paper, but the other servants were talking amongst themselves, and their words all seemed to blend together as Belle took her seat at the table.

"Can Plumette and I go down to the village for the fair this Friday, Cogsworth?" Lumiere's question seemed to silence the table. No doubt the others were likely to ask the same thing.

The Villeneuve fair was an annual tradition, with booths and stands selling jams, pies, and pastries, and carnival games. Belle's father usually had a stand selling sketches and music boxes, with which she would always assist. She was rather disappointed she wouldn't be able to help her father set up his stand this year, but she hoped to see him that evening.

The weather thus far had been quite agreeable; it snowed every so often but the chill wasn't downright unbearable, not like in January or February, so Belle counted on not getting frostbite while she was out.

Cogsworth set down his paper, and gave a look to Mrs. Potts, who as sitting adjacent to him.

"We wouldn't be very long, and Mr. Adam doesn't need all three footmen to wait on him all by himself," Lumiere added.

"Hey, Jasper and I want to go to the fair as well," Percy chimed in.

Cogsworth sighed.

"Can I go as well, Mrs. Potts?" Belle asked, taking a bite of her buttered toast. "My father has a stand that I'd like to help with."

"I'll talk to Mr. Adam about it, he has a lot on his mind," Cogsworth said, earning a few sighs of relief. It didn't mean  _no,_ in fact, it would most likely be a  _yes._ Cogsworth gave a wary look to Mrs. Potts and continued with his breakfast.

None of the other servants knew what the butler had meant by "he has a lot on his mind," but of course, Belle knew.

Since Mr. Adam had received that horrid letter almost two weeks prior, he'd been anxious every time she'd seen him. They couldn't even carry a conversation about the books she was reading without him drifting into his own world every five minutes.

Belle had told him constantly that a year was a long time, and a solution may present itself. But Mr. Adam wasn't convinced. He said that either his father or Lady Brankford would find a way to speed everything up.

Lady Brankford wouldn't want him to marry, of course. If he didn't, her son would become the heir to the earldom, and Mr. Adam would be cast out. Belle suspected she would be scheming to avoid any marriage plans, and perhaps even convince his Lordship to shorten the time he'd given Mr. Adam to marry.

She hadn't told him any of this; Mr. Adam was most likely thinking about all the ways he would either be forced to marry or give up his inheritance sooner rather than later. Besides, Belle didn't want to bring up the topic that would surely frustrate and anger him to no end. He was already thinking plenty about it without anyone's help.

The silence was broken by the sound of a bell going off on the large bell board on the wall behind Cogsworth's seat. The lamp-black board practically took up the entirety of the wall with all its bells and markers, and during her time at Theron, Belle thought not even half had been rung. It was usually the same three: the front door, the library, and the room the ringing bell belonged to: Mr. Adam's room, called the Prince Edward bedroom. According to Lumiere, it had been named as such because a Prince Edward had stayed there a long while ago. He always loved to speak of the house's history.

"And he's off," Cogsworth said as the bell continued to ring above its gold tag. Chappeau quickly took a last sip of his tea and rushed from the servants' hall to the stairwell.

"And that means you three should get to the breakfast room," Mrs. Potts nodded to Plumette, Belle, and the footman, Jasper.

"Yes, Mrs. Potts," the two maids said in unison as they stood and pushed their chairs in. Belle managed to get another bite of her toast before handing the plate off to the kitchen maid coming around and collected their dishes.

"I'm planning on telling him," Plumette said as they walked up the servants' stairwell that lead to the main floor. "Soon, I think."

Belle looked back behind them. Jasper was fiddling with his livery at the bottom of the stairwell, so they could talk quietly.

"About Mr. Holloway?" She asked, her voice a whisper.

"Yes, I don't think I can keep it from him any longer," she replied. Belle took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"I'm sure you'll feel much better after you tell him." Belle smiled.

"Tell who what?" Jasper chimed in, approaching them with haste.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Plumette said, but offered him a friendly smile.

"Is it about the late Mr. Holloway?" the footman pressed, earning a stern look from both maids.

"Never you mind," Belle said as she opened the door that revealed Theron's grand parlour. Sunlight streaked through the polished windows, illuminated every corner of the room. On the far wall, a flame roared in its massive stone fireplace. The heat radiating from the fire immediately comforted her from the cold servants' passages.

"You know, there's been some gossip about him in the papers, concerning Mr. Adam's cousin, Lady Theresa. I've been reading about it as I iron the papers. They've not been too kind about it," Jasper said as they entered the breakfast room.

Belle and Plumette opened the heavy drapes, letting the sunlight in, and Jasper laid Mr. Adam's table setting.

"Oh?" Belle asked before she could stop herself. She didn't want to talk about Mr. Holloway any longer, but the news of gossip caught her attention. And from the sounds of it, the gossip Jasper was about to share didn't concern either her nor Plumette, but she wanted to make sure.

"There were rumours that Lady Theresa and Mr. Holloway had… been involved, and it's apparently caused her fiancé broke off their engagement. She's set to travel to America. Newport, or some such place," Jasper said in a lowered voice, as if Cogsworth could hear them all the down in the servants' hall. It wouldn't surprise Belle if he could.

"Oh, dear," was all Plumette said.

"But who would spread such rumours?" Belle asked, thinking aloud.

Jasper shrugged. "My guess is on Lady Theresa's mother. She never liked the fiancé, probably saw it as an opportunity to break the whole thing off. Mr. Holloway can't refute the rumours, after all."

The thought made her tense suddenly.  _Had anyone seen them that night? Had Lady Brankford, of all people, seen them?_ Belle thought she had been looking around the dark hallways constantly for anyone lurking about, but she'd seen no one, she was sure of it. But perhaps Lady Brankford was just making up stories for an ulterior motive. She wouldn't put it past the woman.

"I never knew she had such a distaste for Lady Theresa's fiancé," Belle said, shifting the topic slightly. Once all the curtains had been drawn, she dusted the top of the polished wood countertop where the food would be lain.

"I heard Lord and Lady Brankford complain about him extensively once before anyone else had come for dinner," the footman continued. "And Lord Brankford's valet was quite chatty."

The topic was put to rest once Percy and Lumiere entered the breakfast room and laid out the food. Belle could tell Plumette was relieved to be free of the room once they left.

"I can't stand all the gossip about it," she said through her teeth once they were alone in the servants' corridor. "What if Lady Brankford  _had_  seen us that evening?" Her tone was suddenly full of worry, and her eyes widened.

"I was worried about that too," Belle admitted. "But I was sure no one was in the hall that night. No one. Jasper was probably right that Lady Brankford was making it up to separate Lady Theresa and her fiancé."

It seemed to calm Plumette down more, and she nodded stiffly. "If it's true, then it's terribly awful for Lady Theresa."

"Yes, of course, but Lady Brankford is just the kind of person who would do such a thing," Belle replied. Though she hadn't told her about his Lordship's letter to Mr. Adam, Belle knew they were both thinking of the woman's scheming.

The Marchioness of Brankford was just the sort of person to hatch a plot such as this, indeed.

* * *

"The servants want to attend this Friday's village fair, sir," Cogsworth said as Adam was halfway through his breakfast and three-quarters through  _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ a play Belle had recommended to him.

After the initial shock of his father's dreaded letter a week earlier, his time with Belle was a great comfort, probably a greater comfort than he deserved. It was hard to shake the anxiety of this father's threat, and he did find himself staring off into the distance wrapped up in his own thoughts for much of the day. Belle thought all of his thoughts were about the letter, and while it was true that a great deal of them were, he was guilty of being enchanted by Belle and getting lost in her words.

When he was with her, he almost forgot about everything else. It felt like they were the only two people at Theron, the only two people in the world. Adam was sure his father would find some poor woman and force them into a marriage, but until then he was determined to enjoy his time with Belle.

Adam set down his book, but didn't respond right away. In fact, he'd been thinking a lot about the fair this past week. It was his first time back at Theron for the fair years, and he'd always had fond memories of it.

He remembered how his mother would walk with him down to the village, just the two of them. No nannies, no servants, and certainly not his father. It was the one night she would indulge him with games and prizes; not even the memories of Christmas could compare with the times he and his mother spent at the fair.

The air was always cold and clean, sometimes with freshly fallen snow. Adam remembered the scent of warm apple cider and the candied apples he'd always receive at the end of the night. Though he would have had enough energy to run back to the estate without stopping for breath, Adam always took his time walking back to Theron with his mother. It was one of the only times they got to be completely alone during the year, and at least he had been smart enough to cherish that time together.

He only wished that were still the case.

Cogsworth continued after the long silence. "I told them you have a lot on your mind–"

"No, no," Adam cleared his throat. "It's perfectly alright if they want to go. I think I might go as well."

"Sir?"

"I'll have an early dinner that day and head down to the village afterwards."

"Of course, sir."

Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could have sworn he saw the butler's lips curve upwards into the smallest of smiles.

Adam glanced back at the papers checked the gossip columns. After first returning to Theron in April, he couldn't bear to be reminded of his previous life in London's high society, and as such avoided the gossip columns and rumours and the letters from his acquaintances (though they all stopped after the first two weeks, except for Ned's).

But he recently started to check them again, especially after the death of Mr. Holloway had made quite the scandal in the papers. A scandal, however, his father didn't bother to cover up. And now with all this nonsense about Theresa and Mr. Holloway having some affair and the breakoff of the engagement… he wanted to make sure the papers weren't becoming too unpleasant.

The thought had crossed his mind to invite Theresa to stay at Theron for a while until the scandal blew over. It  _would_  have the added advantage of warding off any potential women his father intended to push on him, but he knew his aunt wouldn't have it.

It was enough that Theron was already housing one blunder of a family member, but to house  _two…_ the estate would be turned into a convalescence home for their family's outcasts. Not that he'd mind, really. However, it was not to be. Theresa was heading to Newport after the Christmas holidays, and there would be no persuading his aunt otherwise.

At least  _she_ would be far from the clutches of Aunt Margaret.

* * *

When the day of the fair came, the servants eagerly ate their dinner (which was earlier than usual, but Cogsworth didn't say why) so they could rush down to the village for the fair.

"Do you think it'll snow?" One of the housemaids, Lily asked between bites of the meat pie.

"I shouldn't think so," Plumette said. "It hasn't snowed for a few days now."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't bundle up," Mrs. Potts said from across the table. "And the same goes for you boys, too," she eyed the footmen. "I don't want all of you in bed with colds at once."

"I daresay Mr. Adam can fend for himself if it came down to it," Percy said with a small laugh.

Cogsworth gazed up from his meal with a look of shock mixed with a glare, if such an expression were possible. "Perhaps, Percy, but that is  _not_ how we do things here at Theron," he said sharply.

The footman looked back down at his meal, somewhat embarrassed. Jasper leaned over to him, giving him a nudge of encouragement.

After dinner, the staff rushed back to their rooms to change before heading out. Belle put on a simple blue dress with white buttons down the front and a dark coat. Plumette wore a dark violet dress that she said had been a gift from Lumiere the year before.

The two girls walked down to the village together with Lumiere, Percy, and Jasper, while a few of the kitchen maids and hall boys trailed behind them. The sun was just starting to set over Theron, bathing the sky in navy and magenta. A few clouds were gathering, perhaps signaling a snowfall, but thankfully the winds were not harsh and biting.

"Have you not come down to the fair in previous years?" Belle asked.

"Mrs. Potts said the staff used to go when her Ladyship was alive," Plumette said, weaving her fingers around Lumiere's. "But not really after that. Lumiere and I managed to sneak out last year." She smiled at him. "We both pretended to be ill, and then during the servants' dinner we left the house and spent a few hours in the village."

"You snuck past Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth?" Jasper exclaimed, laughing.

"Don't you get any ideas," Belle eyed him, giving him a playful glare.

"Mrs. Potts must have found out not long after," Lumiere admitted. "But if either of them did, they didn't say a word to us."

"If anything, she felt sympathetic that we spent years cooped up in that place while his Lordship and Mr. Adam were in London," Plumette added.

"It sounds rather lonely," Belle said.

"It wasn't so bad. We became a family during that time."

"And not to mention Mrs. Potts managed to give us a full day off at Christmas," Lumiere said excitedly. "Her husband, Mr. Potts and her son, Chip, would come over, we had our own celebration in the servants' hall…" he trailed off, delighting in the memories. "Though I doubt that would happen again, what with Mr. Adam in the house."

Belle shrugged. "You never know. Mr. Adam can be quite generous, he may let us have the day off."

"How do you know?" Percy chimed in, raising an eyebrow. His tone was playful, but the words burned all the same.

Immediately, Belle knew she had said too much. She looked down at the dark cobble path and felt heat rise to her cheeks. Even in the cold, she felt the temperature increase and almost took off her coat to relieve herself from the heat.

_This was what Mrs. Potts was worried about,_ she realized. If she told them there was nothing more than a friendly relationship between her and Adam, Plumette and Lumiere would believe her, but she wasn't so sure about the others. Jasper was an eager gossip if their conversation in the breakfast room earlier in the week was anything to go by. And as soon as one person was in a possession of a rumour, it would spread, until the whole household staff knew, and it most certainly would get back to his Lordship. She didn't know how, but it would.

Belle shrugged again nonchalantly, as if her words had meant nothing. "Just a feeling," she replied. Though Jasper didn't see it, Plumette raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything.

Soon the fairgrounds came into view, with their banners and lights strung from the trees, and the laughter of children and the shouts of stand owners hawking their prizes. The air smelt of cinnamon and apples, and Belle saw her father tinkering away in his stand.

The kitchen maids pulled along the hall boys ahead of them, eager to purchase some sweets and play the games. Jasper and Percy headed towards a ring toss game, organizing a bet between them, while Lumiere and Plumette walked slowly arm-in-arm.

Belle excused herself to head towards her father's stand. He was looking down at a bit of machinery, but was having trouble with one of the cogs. She rolled her eyes. He always seemed to make this mistake no matter how many times Belle told him otherwise. Spotting the correct gear from a small pile on the counter, she picked it up and handed it to her father.

"This might work a little better, I think," she said, smiling.

Maurice looked at the gear. "Yes, I think you're right," he said without looking up. "How did you know…" slowly, he shifted his gaze upwards and smiled brightly. "Belle! How lovely it is to see you!" He beckoned her over to the other side of the stand and kissed her on the cheek. "I didn't know you were coming, you should have written to me."

"I wanted to surprise you, Papa," she said.

"Well, you've certainly done that," he replied, chuckling.

"You didn't have trouble getting everything down from the cottage, did you?"

"I admit, I missed having you to help me, but Phillippe and I took care of everything."

"I do hope you're not wearing him out."

"Of course not," Maurice laughed. "He's an excellent worker."

Belle and her father's conversation continued into the night, and more than once he told her to run along with the friends she insisted she had, but Belle replied that they were all busy enjoying the festivities, and she was enjoying her time with him.

When the night chill started to settle in, Belle offered to get them both cups of hot apple cider with her pocket money, but her father was too stubborn to let her pay for it, even though she insisted. He placed a shilling in her hand and she got up and walked over to the stand further down the grounds.

It was quite busy, still, and as she was waiting in line, she could have sworn she saw Mr. Adam walking around the fairgrounds, just by stand selling what looked like knitted goods. Belle shook her head and looked again, but the figure she thought she saw was gone. Her mind was playing tricks on her.  _Good lord,_ she'd gotten nervous about him earlier in the night and now she thought she was seeing him everywhere.

After paying sixpence each for the ciders, Belle walked back over to her father's stand with a quicker pace than before. She still couldn't shake the feeling that she really did see him, and she even craned her neck to scan the grounds, but Mr. Adam wasn't there.

* * *

Plumette could tell Lumiere had been nervous ever since Belle had left to visit her father, but for what, she didn't know.

He managed to win her a pair of knitted mittens from the ring toss stand, and now they were sharing a box of fresh popcorn.

In his defence, Plumette had been rather silent that evening. She wanted to tell him about Mr. Holloway, but she couldn't find the right words in her mind. Granted, there was  _no_ right way to explain she carried the body of a fully-grown man down the halls of Theron from Lady Theresa's room to the bachelor's corridor.

But she realized she wasn't more nervous about explaining the ordeal as she was about what Lumiere's reaction would be. Would he be horrified? Disgusted? Hurt than she hadn't told him right away? It all made her want to put off the topic indefinitely. But then Belle's advice rung in her ears. It would do her no good to keep the secret to herself. Lumiere was worth too much to be kept in the dark. And he could be trusted, there was no doubt about that.

Finally, while sitting on one of the wooden benches and sipping some warm apple cider, she turned to Lumiere and took his hand in hers.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said slowly, making sure the words were right. "And I'm afraid it can't be put off any longer."

"Oh, good, there's something I must ask you too–"

But Plumette help a finger up to stop him. "I need to say this now, before you say anything."

Lumiere nodded.

"You remember that night Mr. Holloway died?" She started, breathing slowly.

"Of course," Lumiere answered, clearly unsure of what she was about to confess.

"Well… Mr. Holloway wasn't in his room when he died."

Lumiere was in a stunned silence, and Plumette continued, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. "That is, Lady Theresa came to mine and Belle's room that night, asking for help. She said Mr. Holloway had gotten into her room, he was… making advances." She swallowed hard, but forced herself to continue. "Lady Theresa said he suddenly cried out and fell limp."

"And you and Belle helped her?"

Plumette nodded. "We carried him all the way from her room to the bachelor's corridor. She said he couldn't be found in her room, he just couldn't. It would be terrible." She looked at him intently, trying to judge his reaction.

"I'm sorry I kept it from you," she suddenly burst, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I wanted to tell you but I thought you'd be disgusted or…"

"How could I be disgusted with a woman who risk so much to help a friend," he breathed, clutching her hand tight and wiping away the tears from her cheeks. "If anything, I admire you so much for it. I wish I had half of your bravery."

Plumette smiled and laughed through the tears.  _Oh, thank God._ "But you mustn't tell anyone," she warned.

"Absolutely not." His voice dropped into a low tone. "Did anyone see you?"

"Belle doesn't think so, but we were worried because of Lady Theresa's engagement. Belle thinks Lady Brankford just made it up to break it off."

"Well, if anyone would do it, it's Lady Brankford." Lumiere kissed her on the cheek and finished the last of his cider. He stared at her for a long while, his eyes filled with joy and love. Plumette turned and leaned her head on his shoulder and watched as the children raced around the fairgrounds, holding prizes and candied apples.

"What was it you were going to say?" Plumette asked, suddenly remembering that Lumiere had wanted to tell her something as well.

He didn't respond at first, leaving her in anticipation. Finally, he replied.

"Perhaps another time."

* * *

The night began to wear down as the villagers played the last of the games and returned to their homes, and soon the stand owners were packing up their belongings in carts and wagons.

Plumette, the footmen, the kitchen maids, and the hall boys had all returned to Theron, and Belle told them she'd be along just as soon as she was done helping her father with his cart.

Together, they placed Maurice's unsold music boxes into wooden crates and stacked them on the cart. They'd sold a good amount of them, and not to mention a considerable number of his sketches.

"Now, are you sure you don't want me to walk you back to the big house?" Maurice asked as they placed the last of the boxes on the cart.

"It's fine, Papa," Belle said. "It's only a short distance."

"If you insist."

"I  _do_ insist," Belle laughed.

Her father nodded and kissed her on the forehead before climbing onto Phillippe's saddle. "Good night, my dear," he said as he shook the reigns and was off down the street.

"Good night!" Belle shouted back at the fading figure.

As Belle watched her father leave in the cart, she hugged herself in an effort to stay warm. It felt suddenly colder than it had been a mere few seconds ago, perhaps due to the fact that the fair grounds were dark and almost devoid of people.

She pulled her coat tighter around her and started to make her way back to the big house, where she could hopefully convince the cook to make her some hot cocoa.

The wind started to pick up, and as she passed a tall oak tree with bare branches, she noticed a small group of men smoking together. Belle tore her gaze from them and quickened her pace, but felt their gaze bore inter her.

The crunching of leaves beneath heavy boots made Belle shudder, and they were becoming louder, approaching her with haste.

"Belle!" A deep voice cried out, a voice she recognized, a voice that made her stop in her tracks.

"Belle, what are you doing out here so late?" Gaston asked as she turned to face him. He was with a few of her friends that she did not particularly like the look of.

"I was helping my father, but I'm heading back to the big house," she forced a smile and turned to leave, but Gaston's hand snaked around her wrist, preventing her from moving.

"It's quite dark. I can escort you, if you like," he said, his grip remaining firm.

"I'm perfectly fine on my own, thank you," Belle seethed and shook her wrist from his grip. She made to leave, but he maneuvered around her, blocking her path.

"Belle, I don't know why you insist on working in that dark and gloomy house. You'd be much happier at home with–"

"Don't tell me what I'd be happier or less happy with," Belle snapped, her eyes wide. "I'm sure  _I_ know my own mind better than that you do."

Gaston narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps you don't." His tone was becoming darker, angrier, frightening. Belle took careful steps backwards, but bumped into the stone wall that sectioned off the village schoolyard. The men stared at her, smirking. "I think those books of yours are filling your head with ridiculous ideas," Gaston continued, taking heavy steps towards her.

Belle scoffed. "The only ideas they give me are that I could  _never_ be happy with a man like you." She tried to push her way through the group of men, but Gaston grabbed her wrist once more and pushed her against the stone wall.

She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her and doubled over in an attempt to breathe. "Gaston…" she rasped, her breath still escaping her. When she finally looked up, his face was dangerously close to hers, and his hand had moved from her wrist to her upper arm. The fingers of his free hand traced her cheekbones, sending shivers down her spine.

"We'll see about that," he whispered venomously, his breath thick with cigarette smoke and alcohol hot in her ear.

Belle attempted to cry out, but her screams were muffled by Gaston's lips against hers. She turned her head as best she could, and with all her strength she kicked at his groin, sending him a few paces back.

" _You bitch!_ " He hissed and caught her cheek with the back of his hand with enough to send her to the ground. She felt her foot get caught on a root and twisted painfully, making her cry out. More pain rammed through her as her wrists broke her fall, and even with her throbbing ankle she attempted to get up and run.

A heavy hand pushed back down to the ground, and Belle turned onto her back to kick Gaston off with her good leg, but she didn't need to.

" _Get off her!"_ A familiar voice roared and tore Gaston away from her. Belle blinked and found Mr. Adam in front of her, offering her is hand.  _She knew she'd seen him earlier._

"Are you alright?" he asked frantically as he pulled her up. Belle swallowed.

"My ankle…" she muttered, her heart pounding.

"Let's get you back to the house," he said softly, supporting her with his arm.

"Who are you, then?" Gaston raged from behind them. Mr. Adam turned, and she with him.

"Get out of here," he said in a dangerous tone, more dangerous than she had ever heard before. "If you're lucky I won't notify the police about this."

Gaston laughed. "And what will you tell them? That you interfered with a man's private business?" The men beside him chuckled in a most terrifying way.

Mr. Adam's dark expression remained. "I will tell them that I witness you and your  _friends_ assaulting a young woman, which will no doubt place you in His Majesty's custody."

Belle could see anger pulsing through his body, and she wanted to dissolve the situation before any more violence occurred.

"Gaston," she said fiercely. "Go home."

The man glared viciously and took long strides towards them so they were within spitting distance. At first, he didn't say anything, but then shifted his gaze to Mr. Adam and looked him up and down. A sinister smiled creeped onto his face.

"Now I recognize you," he said to her employer. "You're the toff who lives at Theron. I've seen your picture in the papers. You're the one always whoring around London–"

Gaston didn't get to finish his sentence, because it was cut off by Mr. Adam's fist slamming against his cheek.

Belle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Gaston wasn't on the ground for long, and swung at Mr. Adam, catching him slightly off guard. The blow didn't land correctly, but still managed to get him, sending her and Mr. Adam apart. Belle tried to catch herself on the park bench near her, but it was a little too far out of reach and her hand scraped against his back as she fell.

She tried to stand up, but a loud  _crack_ made her jolt around, and saw Gaston against the stone wall, clutching his wrist.

_"You bastard, you…"_ Gaston was practically foaming at the mouth in anger.  _"You'll pay for this, I swear it!"_

Mr. Adam ignored Gaston's shouts as he rushed towards her and scooped her up in his arms with ease. At first, the move made her tense, thinking that it was terribly improper. But as he started to run towards Theron and the shouts grew fainter and fainter, she felt so comforted him and put her arms around his neck to hold on.

Every so often, he muttered "you're going to be alright", and as the lights of the big house came into view, Belle smiled warmly.

She thought she might have hit her head, or she was terribly tired, but her eyelids felt very heavy was they entered Theron.

There were shouts, some from Mr. Adam, some from Mrs. Potts, and some from Cogsworth, but she couldn't make out the words.

Belle was half asleep when she felt her body being set gently on a bed, though it didn't feel like  _her_ bed. It was too large, too soft. She tried to thank Mr. Adam for coming to her aid, but she had no idea if the words in her mouth were intelligible.

All she remembered were Mr. Adam's words telling her it would be alright before everything faded from view.

* * *

Adam remained at Belle's beside that night, even after the doctor had come and gone, telling him she just needed rest, even after both Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth told him to go to bed.

He didn't want to leave her, not after what he'd witnessed in the village.

Every minute he thanked God that he had stayed that late, taking his time as he remembered all the time he used to spend with his mother at the fair, and how much he missed her. He only wished he'd gotten to Belle sooner.

He couldn't describe the amount of anger he had for that man – Gaston – and a broken wrist certainly hadn't done justice to the crime, but he hoped it would keep him away from Belle.

As the clock ticked past midnight, there was a gentle knock at the door. Mrs. Potts entered, carrying a silver tray with a cup of tea and a small stack of books. Adam laughed gently as the housekeeper placed the tray beside him on the bedside table.

"Since I can't convince you to get some rest or let us take her to her own room," she smiled warmly, "I thought you'd like something to drink and read."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potts," Adam replied, eying the copy of  _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ he was currently reading. "That's very kind."

"It was brave, what you did for Belle," she added as she made to leave. "The downstairs staff were all quite worried, as you can imagine."

"You told them she'll be alright?"

"Of course, sir. And I told them to not talk about the… arrangement." She paused for a moment, and Adam knew to what she was referring.

When he was racing to the house after dealing with Gaston, he hadn't even thought to use the servants' entrance, or bring to her own room on the top floor. His mind had been whirling with so much anxiety that he deposited her in one of the guest rooms, not even thinking about the impropriety it would display between them. In all honesty, Adam didn't particularly care in that moment. All he cared about was Belle's wellbeing. If she felt more comfortable in her own room once she woke up, that would he her decision, but for now, Adam wanted to stay with her until she recovered. He didn't care what it looked like. Let the papers into the room if they were so interested.

Adam reached out to hold Belle's hand, but Mrs. Potts interrupted.

"Try to get some rest," she said, though there was a warning in her tone. A warning to not get too close.

_Time are changing, but not fast enough for you, I'm afraid._

Adam gazed at Belle again, and wondered what his life would be like if they ran away together. He said once he could never be suited to a middle-class life, but for her, perhaps he could make a go of it. He couldn't be a farmhand, certainly, but he surely had enough education to be a literary scholar, or perhaps a translator of ancient texts.

Taking a sip of the calming tea, he shook away the fantasy. He was being ridiculous. He could never survive a middle-class life, his father thought he could barely survive an  _upper-class_ one, and perhaps he was right.

Thinking of his father only made his anger rise, and he pushed it down and picked up the book at the top of stack and began to read. Adam occasionally glanced at Belle, thinking perhaps she would wake, but he fell asleep with the book on his lap before she did.

When Adam woke, sunlight was streaming through the bedroom's window, and a fire crackled in the fireplace.

All his memories of the night before started to fall back into place. The assault, the fight, the Earth-shattering  _crack_ as he slammed Gaston's wrist against the stone wall, it all flooded back with the power of a waterfall.

But what caught his attention more was Belle. She was sitting upright on the bed, a book in her hands, and she was reading aloud.

" _Love can transpose to form an dignity,"_  she read in the most soothing voice. She hadn't noticed he'd woke, but he smiled at the prose. " _Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore–"_

" _And therefore is winged cupid painted blind,"_ Adam finished the prose, glancing at Belle.

Belle shifted her gaze and her face lit up, her cheeks red with flush.

"I'm glad you've already seemed to memorize my recommendation," she said, putting down the book. She gazed around the room, her expression changing drastically. "Why am I not in my own room?"

Adam looked down at his lap. "Everything happened so quickly last night… I wasn't thinking. After the doctor came he said to not move you."

"What did… what did the doctor say?"

"He said you're fine, but your ankle was sprained. It's best not to put too much pressure on it. He's to return sometime this morning."

Belle nodded, trying to move her ankle under the sheets. She grimaced at the pain. But then, she laughed.

"It doesn't look good, I suspect; you, carrying me in your arms and staying with me in a guest bedroom alone. Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth must be horrified, and not to mention the papers that love you so much."

Adam chuckled. "Cogsworth more than Mrs. Potts, though she did give me a very strict warning. The papers, on the other hand, should not find out about this, I hope. The staff have been told not to talk about it."

He gazed at her with a more serious look. "But are you alright?" He asked, forcing himself to keep a respectful distance. "When I saw what that man was doing… it's a wonder I managed to keep  _some_ restraint instead of beating him to death."

Belle looked down, her smile disappearing. "I don't know if I'm  _alright._  I've known Gaston since my father and I moved to the village. He's always been too full of himself for his own good but I never thought he'd be violent."

"He'd been drinking, you could smelt it," Adam turned up his nose in disgust. " _In vino veritas._ In wine, there is truth."

"In a way, I'm glad his true nature was revealed. At least now I know how dangerous he is," Belle confessed, her voice soft, but fierce. She paused for a moment before speaking again. "After you hit him… what happened?"

Adam sighed, not wanting to relive any memory of that night, but Belle certainly had a right to know. "He got a few hits in, nothing serious. He threw me against the wall, but managed to kick him and… and I smashed his wrist against the stone. It sounded like it broke."

Belle nodded gravely. He didn't know if she was grateful or unhappy.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you were there," she said finally. "I never took you as the type to visit the annual fair."

Adam smiled bashfully and chuckled, but tried to hide it. "When I was a boy, my mother used to take me every year. We'd have sweets and play games… it was the only time I remembered her as truly happy." He gazed at Belle, whose expression fell with sympathy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cast a gloom–"

"It's alright," Belle said, smiling softly. "When did she pass away?"

"When I was ten… after that Father and I never spent much time here."

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I know what it's like. I never really knew my mother, Papa doesn't really like to speak of her."

"Two motherless booklovers," Adam smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "We're perfect for each other."

Belle laughed, blushing deep red. It was a dangerous thing to say, perhaps, but it felt so natural, so normal. When they were together, they were no longer a maid and the son of an earl. Belle was better than him in so many ways, he felt as if he didn't deserve her, not after his life of lying, seducing and gambling.

"Mr. Adam, I–"

Before Belle could finish her sentence, there was a knock at the door and Mrs. Potts entered.

"Dr. Nichols is waiting in the drawing room, sir," she said. "He'll come up in a minute, but Chappeau is expecting you in the dressing room. Breakfast is in half an hour."

Adam knew what she was doing, having the doctor wait downstairs as he made a retreat. No use fueling any rumours by having the doctor walk in on them alone together. Adam nodded at the housekeeper, giving her a silent "thank you".

"Please give me any updates on Belle's condition," he said to Mrs. Potts, but smiled at Belle. "I understand she'll have to rest her ankle for a few days."

"Of course, sir," Mrs. Potts replied.

Adam gave one last smile to Belle, forcing himself not to linger, and left the room.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!
> 
> THANK YOU for your patience and continuing support for this story! I am so excited to share this chapter with you guys. In the spirit of the (belated) holidays, this chapter serves as a defacto Christmas special. It borrows from both the seventh episode of series one, and the series two Christmas special. 
> 
> Thanks again for your support, comments, and kudos! It's all greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

_Kent_

_December 1912_

* * *

“It’s here!”

Belle turned from the book she’d been reading at the servants’ hall table to face a wide-eyed Percy, out of breath and a smile stretching across his face.

Thankfully, as the staff came and went through the hall and passages, no one had asked her _where_ she’d acquired the book – she couldn’t exactly tell them Mr. Adam had let her borrow it – but since the incident at the fair the staff never seemed to ask her any sort of questions, apart from Plumette and Lumiere.

She’d told them what had happened of course, albeit omitting that Mr. Adam had broken Gaston’s wrist, and after a week and a half of resting her ankle, she was finally able to resume her chores.

Mrs. Potts had been adamant on moving her back to her own room after Dr. Nichols visited her the morning after the ordeal, and that evening she was back to reading the books she’d borrowed in the small, grey room with Plumette sleeping on her own bed beside her. Belle didn’t know if she had been disappointed or disheartened that she had to be moved back to the servants’ quarters; she’d enjoyed the roaring fire, large windows, and luxurious fabrics, but of course there was no propriety in having a maid recover a few hallways down from her employer. Belle knew Mrs. Potts was trying to protect Mr. Adam’s reputation as much as Belle’s, and she was grateful for it all the same.

“What’s here?” Belle asked, setting down the copy of _Great Expectations._

“The tree, of course” Percy exclaimed. “I’ve never seen one so big before!”

“Well you better get up there and help Cogsworth and the others,” Mrs. Potts eyed him, and the footman nodded and scurried up the stairwell.

“Come on, then,” Plumette said, dragging her up from her seat. “You don’t want to miss your first Theron Christmas tree.”

Belle smiled and got up with the maid. Her ankle didn’t hurt as much as it had last month, but remnants of pain remained whenever she tried to hurry up the stairs.

Mrs. Potts kept insisting for her to be mindful of it, and most of the time she listened. But there was something about Plumette’s excitement, and not to mention her own, that propelled her up the stairs and into the main parlour of the house.

The footmen and hall boys were milling about, some rolling up the crimson rug to make room for the tree, some carrying up boxes of decorations, and some clearing the fallen pine needles from the massive tree entering the house.

Cogsworth was guiding three workers as they carefully carried the enormous spruce wood tree into the foyer.

“Watch the portrait!” He shouted at one of the workers. “And watch that mantel clock,” he cried at another at the tree wavered dangerously close to the fireplace’s mantel. “It was a gift from Her Majesty, Queen Victoria.”

As the workmen let out grunts of annoyance at the butler’s heckling, Belle and Plumette managed to find some work to do in the foyer helping the footmen so Cogsworth or Mrs. Potts wouldn’t be cross.

While helping Plumette move one of the chaises out of the path of the tree, Belle caught a glimpse of Mr. Adam up on the gallery, staring down into the foyer with a soft smile on his lips. She thought for a moment that he was staring at her, but she blinked and his gaze was on the tree being set up in the corner of the open room.

“Been a while since we brought these up,” Lumiere’s voice found its way to her ears as they set down the chaise.

The footman was carrying a large crate, full of decorations, tinsel, and lights. He set the box down at the foot of the tree, and it became one of many.  

Soon, the parlour was filled with almost every member of staff decorating the house until every inch was covered in some sort of festive decorations. Belle noticed how exited and enthralled the staff were, probably because it was the first year in some time when they _actually_ got to decorate the upstairs of the house, and not just the cramped and drafty servants’ hall.

Belle caught the sight of Lumiere, alone, arranging some gifts under the tree. She silently slipped away from her duties near the mantel and approached the footman. She gazed once more at the grandeur of the room, and decided that everyone was too engrossed in their duties to pay them any attention.

Cogsworth was busy talking to the men who’d delivered the tree, and Mrs. Potts was nowhere to be found. Belle guessed she was attending to the needs of the cook, Mrs. Oliver. Though there had been no guests at Theron for quite some time now, with Mr. Adam here for the first time in years it seemed as if the house were proceeding like an extended family were staying for the holidays. Cogsworth no doubt preferred to run the house as such.

“Have you asked her, yet?” Belle asked, her voice a soft whisper.

The footman’s gaze shot up at her, at first laced with confusion, but after a moment he understood what she was on about.

“No, I haven’t,” he shook his head.

“Oh,” Belle said, a little disappointed. “I thought you had and decided to keep it a secret amongst yourselves.”

“I never would have told you I intended to propose, if I knew you were going to badger me about it every bloody day,” Lumiere said with a laugh.

“If I recall correctly, you needed guidance and motivation,” she replied with a smirk.

Lumiere sighed, and it was response enough. He knew she was right.

He had told her on one of the first few days she had been able to get out of bed with her sprained ankle. Poor Plumette and the other maids had taken on her duties, so they were constantly running around the house.

Belle had come down for some luncheon and tea, and found Lumiere at the table alone with a frantic look on his face. After an exchange of words, he eventually told her he intended to propose to Plumette. In fact, he’d been intended to for quite some time, though, he didn’t say how long.

“Every time I try to ask her, I can’t seem to find the words. I’m afraid it won’t be perfect, and she deserves perfection,” he had said to her that day, rubbing his fingers over a small silver ring. A ring that had been his mother’s, he told her.

Belle, of course, had consoled him. She said that Plumette would love the proposal no matter how badly he mucked it up, though she didn’t know how much her words had actually helped.

“I almost asked her,” Lumiere said now as he took out an intricately wrapped gift from the wooden crate and placed it under the tree. “The night of the fair, I was so close.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“She explained what had happed with the late Mr. Holloway… she needed comfort more than anything that night. And then Mr. Adam rushed into the house with you and everything sort of, went out the window.”

A silence fell between them. It tended to happen whenever someone brought up the events of that dreadful night. But thankfully the staff seldom did, most likely on the orders of Mrs. Potts, who all but prohibited talk of Mr. Adam carrying her up the grand staircase to a guest room. The thought of it still made her blush slightly, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone.

“Well, you should ask her soon,” Belle said, finally breaking the silence. “Heaven knows she’s probably waiting for you to do it.”

This seemed to lift Lumiere’s spirits, who shot a loving gaze and Plumette. “You’re right. Besides,” he smiled back at Belle. “I know you’ll constantly bother me until I do.”

Belle laughed. “Perhaps you really _shouldn’t have_ told me.”

* * *

Adam was surprised at how much he had enjoyed watching the servants ready and decorate the parlor the previous morning. He constantly felt as if he should have gone down and joined them, but everything became so tense whenever he was around the servants. Most still saw him for what he had been for so many years, or the miserable and lonely man he’d turned into while being trapped at Theron.

But watching Belle from the gallery, the way she smiled so brightly, the way she tried to shake off her limp and help everyone; it reminded him of what he was when he was around her, how her presence calmed him.

He had almost refused to watch the house be decorated for the Christmas season, thinking it would bring back too many childhood memories that were better left out of his head. But, to Adam’s great surprise, he wasn’t hurt by the Christmases of his childhood in that moment as he had been for so many years before.

Memories of past servants’ balls became fresh in his mind. He had waltzed with his mother, and Mrs. Potts, and almost every housemaid until his mother told him to go to bed. He imagined dancing with Belle in that room, just the two of them, dancing into the night without a single soul to judge them, or punish them.

That was when the idea came to Adam as he ate breakfast.  He gazed at Cogsworth, wanting to tell him, but there were still a few of the footmen in the room, and wanted to explain the idea to the butler and Mrs. Potts in private.

Adam waited until after breakfast to descend the stairs into the cold and dreary servants’ hall. As he walked the grey passages and watched the servants milling about, he realized he’d never set foot downstairs since he was a child, and even then, his father did everything to discourage it.

“A gentleman does not go downstairs,” he would say. “The staff must come to him.”

It was Adam’s mother who would take him down to greet the servants on special occasions, such as a birthday or during the holidays, but only when she was sure his father wouldn’t find out. He hadn’t realized it then, but now Adam knew how scared his mother was of his father, how she would always tread so lightly around him, how she only seemed to relax when he was not around.

A sudden wave of longing hit him as he remembered his mother, and all she did for him. Adam longed for her to walk these halls again. He longed for her to be with him. At least he the comfort of knowing she would more than approve of what he was about to request.

Only a few members of the staff were in the servants’ hall when he entered, having tea, mending, and one the footman was playing a lively tune on the piano. 

Belle was there as well, reading a book he had recommended for her when he started her chores again.

It didn’t take long for them to notice he’d entered, and within seconds all of the staff present were on their feet and staring at him. Some wore shocked expressions, probably because they didn’t expect Adam of all people to come downstairs, but he did notice Belle smile the tiniest bit, and he tried not to draw attention to it by smiling back.

The task was proving rather difficult.

“Where might I find Cogsworth?” He asked, finally, clearing this throat.

“He went into his study, sir,” Lumiere replied.

“Is anything wrong, sir?” A voice asked, entering the room.

Adam turned to find Mrs. Potts in the doorway, wearing the same shocked expression as the rest of the staff.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replied with a smile. “I just want to talk to Cogsworth… and as a matter of fact I need your opinion as well. We can talk in his study.”

Adam left the servants’ hall with a quick turn, and the housekeeper followed in his step. As he knocked on the wooden door, he found Mrs. Potts’s expression had not gone away.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he insisted.

“Forgive me, sir, I’m just not used to you coming downstairs,” she said with a slight laugh.

Cogsworth’s gruff _“come in”_ rang out from beyond the door and Adam entered the dimly-lit room. There was only a small window high on the wall near the ceiling, but even on a cloudless day, minimal sunlight came through it. The rest of the study was lit by an oil lamp on the cluttered bureau.

He realized that while electricity had been installed on the main and upper floors of the house a year or two ago, his father never bothered to have electric lights installed downstairs or in the servants’ quarters. But it didn’t seem to bother the staff. Cogsworth and Mrs. Oliver were traditionalists that probably took displeasure in new lights being installed _anywhere_.

The butler stood as he saw Adam, but before he could ask what was wrong (and Adam was sure he was going to ask it because of the familiar shocked expression), he assured him that everything was perfectly alright.

Cogsworth offered him a seat, but Adam politely declined.

“I shan’t take up a lot of your time,” he said. He looked at the two heads of the household as they waited for him to tell them what was going on.

“This Christmas,” Adam began, “I want to revive an old tradition. I would like to hold a servants’ ball on Christmas eve.”

“A servants’ ball?” Cogsworth asked. Adam couldn’t tell if the butler was enthusiastic or repulsed by the idea.

“Yes,” Adam replied firmly. “It’s been years since this house had a proper Christmas, and even though his Lordship will surely not be present – and thank the Lord for that – I want to organize something special for the staff.”

“How generous,” Mrs. Potts replied with a smile. “The staff will surely love the idea.”

“And of course, Mr. Potts and your son are welcome to come,” he added.

“It would be nice to do something special this year,” Cogsworth agreed. “However, I’m not sure His Lordship would like it if we spent more money on extravagant meals.”

Adam waved his hand. “The meals don’t have to be special. Tells Mrs. Oliver to make use of whatever we have.”

Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts looked at each other for a moment, practically in astonishment. The housekeeper was the first to speak.

“I believe we can make that work, sir,” she said with a smile.

“Excellent.”

Before he could leave, the voice of the butler stopped him in his tracks.

“If you don’t mind my asking, sir,” he said in his baritone voice, “what made you decide this?”

Adam gazed at him in silence. It was a short question with a very long answer. Seeing the staff so happy as they decorated the parlour made him decide it. Remembering the Christmases with his mother made him.

Belle made him decide it.

He supposed it was selfish of him, to want to hold a servants’ ball if only to be able to share a dance with the housemaid, but he realized now it wasn’t just about them. He _wanted_ to do something special for the staff. They’ve put up with him for months now, he was surprised they all hadn’t handed in their notice. That warranted to special occasion, at least.

“Consider it a Christmas gift,” Adam finally replied, smiling. “For putting up with me these past few months. I know I’ve not been the most grateful employer…” he trailed off, heat and flush rising in his cheeks.

“No, certainly not,” Mrs. Potts said, but not with anger or maliciousness. To Adam’s surprise, her tone was light, understanding. “But I’ve always known that sweet little boy I loved so much was still in there.”

The housekeeper approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “I can see now that I was right.”

Without pretense or thought, Adam pulled her into a hug. He realized, as Mrs. Potts hugged him back, trying to sniffle away tears, that it was the first time he’d been hugged since his mother was alive. Lord knows his father never did such a thing.

“Your mother would be proud of you,” Mrs. Potts whispered.

“She certainly would,” Cogsworth added as the two separated.

Adam nodded gratefully. He realized he’d been longing to hear those words for so long, that somehow, his mother would someday be proud of him. It had taken Adam a longer time to achieve that than he’d like to admit, but coming from two people he regarding as parental figures more than anything, the words filled his heart with joy. “Thank you.”

“Now let’s see how we can put together this servants’ ball,” the housekeeper said, putting her hands on her hips with purpose, her tone uplifting. “We have lots to do and only two weeks to do it.”

* * *

Though Belle had spent most of her recovery time reading to her heart’s content, she found she still couldn’t resist the library’s temptations when she resumed her chores.

She was partway through _Moby Dick_ when she heard someone enter, and she scrambled to put the book back in its proper place, very careful not to bend the pages. However, she was glad to see it was only Mr. Adam who’d entered, a book under his arm as always.

“You almost missed me,” she said as she resumed dusting the heavy velvet curtains.

Mr. Adam laughed to sat in his usual seat. “By the looks of it, you were in your own world again.”

“I can’t seem to help it,” Belle replied, blushing deeply.

Adam chuckled and looked down at the book he opened awkwardly. The weeks of separation since the night of the fair seemed to reinforce the divide between them, unfortunately. Deep down, Belle knew it was only proper, and perhaps it was for the best. She would have been sent away in an instant without a reference in any other household, and allowed herself to be grateful of Theron.

And him.

“Cogsworth told us about the servants’ ball,” Belle said, breaking the dreadful silence. “It’s very kind of you.”

“I hope they will be pleased,” Mr. Adam replied quietly. “It’s been so long since we’ve had any celebrations in this house.”

“The staff was overjoyed, I think. Especially Lumiere. Though anything that allows him a night off is enough get him overjoyed.”

They both shared a laugh, and despite herself, Belle realized how much she missed these conversations. It was splendid when Plumette had brought her books courtesy of Mr. Adam, of course, but this was something else altogether.

“It was a tradition, years ago, when I was a boy,” he said thoughtfully, his blue eyes shining in the light of the large fireplace. “Mama would always open the ball with Cogsworth, and then Father would join in with Mrs. Potts. I was allowed to dance with one of the maids, then Mrs. Potts, and finally Mama before being shooed off to bed. Of course, that all stopped when Mama passed. Father would take me everywhere with him, and I always complained when we weren’t at Theron for the Holidays.”

Mr. Adam looked as if he were about to say more, but only looked up the large window into the snow-covered grounds. Tiny bits of the village could be seen from the window, and Belle imagined the busy winter activity down there; motor cars driving down the streets, small specks of men and women covered heavy wools carrying parcels wrapped in paper and twine, store owners covering their windows in tinsel.

These were what she had always seen every holiday season when they moved to the village, and even though she wasn’t there now, she could picture everything perfectly in her mind.

Belle looked back at her employer, and noticed his downtrodden expression.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he replied. “Father isn’t here, and I intend to have a proper Theron Christmas.”

* * *

With the servants’ ball to look forward to, Belle found that the weeks flew by. Mrs. Oliver was busy as ever in the kitchen, and the poor kitchen maids seemed to bear the brunt of it.

By the time the footmen were carrying up the trays of food to the front parlour on Christmas Eve, the whole kitchen seemed to be filled beyond its capacity. Finger sandwiches, roast chicken and pheasant, steamed vegetables, Yorkshire puddings, and things Belle had never heard of were making their way upstairs.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Mrs. Oliver,” Mrs. Potts said as she inspected the trays.

The cook let out a heavy sigh.

“I told Mr. Adam I could make a Christmas meal for a single person, but he wouldn’t have it. He wanted enough to feed the entire house,” she huffed.

Belle and Plumette giggled from the passage. They had just finished the last of their chores for the day, and stared in awe of the food makings its way upstairs. It was more food that Belle had seen in her entire life, and from what she could tell, the rest of the staff were pinching themselves because for once, the food being prepared was for them as well.

“Something’s changed in that boy,” the cook continued, hands on her hips. “Where has this generous heart of his been hiding?”

“I think he’s always had a generous heart,” Mrs. Potts said thoughtfully, stealing an ever so short glance at Belle, which made her blush. The housekeeper gazed back at Mrs. Oliver. “He just needed to be convinced of it.”

Belle tore her gaze away from both Mrs. Potts and Plumette. She knew the housekeeper was talking about her, and all she could think of were her warnings. They weighed heavy in her mind, her stomach, her body. They were all she ever thought about when she was with him.

But the way Mrs. Potts was speaking now, with such fondness… perhaps it was the Christmas sentiment going to her head.

“Are you girls still there?” The housekeeper called suddenly, almost making both housemaids jump. “You better go up to change, I’m sure you don’t want to miss anything.”

Belle and Plumette smiled to each other and started up the narrow staircase to their room. They didn’t say anything to each other, but the sound of their heartbeats practically filled the passage.

“What is it?” Plumette asked as Belle stopped short of her bed.

“I don’t remember those being there this morning,” Belle replied.

On her bedside table was a small stack of books, tied together with a red satin ribbon. On top sat a small notecard. Belle inched her way towards it, almost terrified of picking it up.

“Well, go on, then,” Plumette insisted, and Belle gently picked up the note card.

_I have no doubt you’ll have a grand library of your own one day. But for now, these can start you off._

_Merry Christmas._

_\- Adam_

Belle blushed as she reread the note several times, unable to be to anything but overjoyed. All

she could do was clutch the note between her fingers, look at the small stack of books, and then look back at the note.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Plumette finally broke the long silence between them. Belle looked up at her friend, broken from her trance. “A reaction like that says everything.”

“Am I really that predictable?” Belle asked with a laugh.

“Only when it comes to certain things,” Plumette giggled as she started to change out of her maid’s dress.

“I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way… I know I shouldn’t…” Belle trailed off, feeling because of how happy she was, but she knew nothing could ever come of it.

Plumette moved over towards her and put her hands over Belle’s.

“I think… perhaps just this once… you’re allowed to feel this way.” Plumette smiled brightly, and Belle smiled in return, with more joy than she thought possible coursing through her. Plumette was surprised by the hug Belle pulled her into, but she quickly put her arms around Belle in return.

Mrs. Potts normally didn’t allow the maids to wear makeup or scents, but Belle could faintly smell Plumette’s lavender oil on her hands.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Belle said, stealing a glance at her gift on the bedside table. Plumette nodded and left the room with a rushed pace.

It seemed as if Plumette took all the cold air with her, because it suddenly became very hot. Belle took a few deep breaths to calm herself, which seemed to work. Still, her chest was still a fury of giddiness and nervousness.

_Did Mrs. Potts or Cogsworth know about the gift? How did it get to her room?_ Mr. Adam certainly couldn’t have come up here and placed it himself, though knowing him it wouldn’t surprise Belle if he had.

But perhaps Mr. Adam was just being kind, after all, all the servants most likely got gifts from their employer – but her heart was still caught in her throat.

Plumette was right, propriety be damned, she allowed herself to be happy rather than scared.

Even if it was just for one night.

* * *

Dinner seemed to pass in a heartbeat with everyone together.

Belle, Plumette, and Lumiere sat together at a small table by the fireplace, eating Mrs. Oliver’s delicious food. Lumiere was drawling on about how he’d never eaten a meal such as this in his life, how he’d never be able to enjoy the servants’ regular meals again, earning a cross look from Plumette. Belle assumed they conversed about other subjects, but she didn’t know what they were, as Mr. Adam kept stealing glances from across the room.

He was dressed in white tie, his blonde hair neatly combed to the side, and eating with Mrs. Potts, and grey-haired man who must have been Mr. Potts, and Cogsworth.

It was the first time, Belle realized, she’d seen him in such a suit, as she never got to saw him during or after dinner. Her heart fluttered every time they made eye contact, and every time Belle shifted her gaze so the others didn’t notice.

“What do you think, Belle?” A voice asked, somewhere. “Belle!”

She blinked, and shifted her attention to Lumiere, who was staring at her with a confused look.

“Are you alright?” the footman asked.

Belle nodded. “Yes, of course. Sorry. What is it you were saying?”

Lumiere rolled his eyes with a smile. “I was saying that I think this is the first time I’ve seen Cogsworth smile.”

Both Belle and Plumette shifted their gaze towards the butler, who seemed deeply engaged in a conversation with Mrs. Potts. His lips were pulled upwards into a wide smile, and they both laughed at each other’s words.

“I’m sure I’ve seen him smile,” Belle argued. “I must’ve.”

“Perhaps it’s the port in his hand,” Lumiere said, nodding at the crystal glass, with only a few drops of crimson liquid left.

“Lumiere, dear, of course he’s smiled before,” Plumette said, taking a bite of a Yorkshire pudding.

“When?”

“When Lady Brankford left.”

The three burst into laughter, though Belle tried to hide it as she sipped on her glass of wine. Their conversation was soon interrupted when Mr. Adam cleared his throat and moved towards the middle of the foyer.

“I’d like to officially open the servants’ ball,” he said and turned towards the housekeeper. “Mrs. Potts, will you do me the honour?”

Mrs. Potts happily obliged, and when Cogsworth put a waltz on the gramophone, the two started to gracefully glide across the room.

Belle was amazed at how easily Mr. Adam moved, as if he was sliding across ice. Her father had taught her how to dance when she was a girl, and she wondered if Mr. Adam’s mother had taught him how to dance. She pictured him as a boy with his mother, spinning around the open foyer, perhaps tripping over each other’s toes.

The thought made her wonder what Mr. Adam’s life would look like had his mother survived. Would he still have developed his reputation for scandal? Or would she have been able to protect him from his father?

As the music went on, more couples joined in the dance. Lumiere and Plumette surprised Belle with their magnificent dancing abilities, given that the only time she’d seen them dance was when they were both in the servants’ hall in between the dinner service.

Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts soon started a dance together, and Mr. Adam partnered with Mrs. Oliver. Though she was considerably shorter than him, Mr. Adam continued to dance flawlessly, a while the cook looked a little awkward.

Belle took another sip of her wine, which made her face flush a little, a noticed that Plumette and Lumiere were no longer dancing. In fact, they were no longer in the room. But before she got a chance to wonder where they’d gone off to, Jasper was asking her to dance.

* * *

After the first waltz had ended, Plumette and Lumiere snuck out of the great hall, and out through Theron’s front doors. For once, it was easy to avoid Cogsworth’s careful eye, which seemed thoroughly enthralled in his dancing partner. The port, of course, made it all the easier.

The air outside was still, and snow was falling lightly, covering Theron’s front lawns in a thin sheet of sparkling white. Plumette’s breath caught in small puffs of steam, disappearing into the impossibly dark sky.

At first, neither of them said anything. Plumette wrapped her arms around her in an effort to stay warm. Lumiere was tapping his fingers against the side of his pants, and avoiding eye contact with her.

“Why did you bring me out here?” Plumette asked finally, keeping her gaze at the stars. A sliver of a crescent moon was peeking out behind the evergreens lining the roads. “And don’t tell to dance in the snow, because we tried that already and it was a horrific disaster.” She laughed, stealing a glance over at Lumiere, who let out a much less convincing chuckle. “Lumiere, is everything alright?” Her eyes deepened into a more serious gaze.

He finally looked up at her, his expression a mix of nervousness and happiness. “Perfectly fine.”

“You’re just… less talkative since we’ve come out here.”

“The thing is,” he started, turning towards her. Gently, he took a hold of her hands. Lumiere’s fingers, miraculously, were warm despite the cold. The warmth spread into her hands like a wave rushing back into the sea. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something… for a while now…”

Plumette smiled. “Yes?”

“A rather important question…” A pause. “Because you are the most important person to me.” Then he bent down onto one knee, and she could already feel tears welling in her eyes.

“Lumiere…”

“I just need to say this, because if I don’t I think I’ll go mad.” They both let out a breathless laugh. “Plumette Beauchamp, it would be an honour…” he swallowed. “The greatest honour, really… if you were to be my wife.”

Plumette barely waited until Lumiere finished his sentence before throwing her arms around him. “Yes, yes, of course,” she breathed, practically knocking him over into the cold snow.

“Well, thank God,” Lumiere laughed softly.

And with the snow melting at the touch of their skin, they kissed.

* * *

“May I cut in?”

A voice asked from behind her dancing partner, and both Jasper and Belle’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Of course… of course, sir,” Jasper managed to say, and gave a slight nod to Belle before leaving her with Mr. Adam.

Rather awkwardly, Belle put her hand on his shoulder, and Mr. Adam wrapped his arm around her waist. It seemed like they were much closer, like she could see her reflection in his blue eyes. She realized she was staring, and quickly looked away, flushing deep red.

She’d spent months talking about books in the confined of the library with him… and yet Belle felt so exposed dancing in the grand hall of Theron. She couldn’t help but glance at the other dancing couples, watching to see if they were staring back at her.

“I don’t think I know this one,” Belle said, trying to distract herself from her thoughts.

“The song?” Mr. Adam asked. “I rather like it. I think it was in a show that flopped.”

“Thank you, for the books. That’s very kind,” Belle said, after dancing a few moments longer in silence.

“It was the least I could do.”

“For what?”

“For being the first person I could really talk to… as more than just employer and staff.”

Belle swallowed, flushing again. Her heartbeat elevated as they continued to dance wordlessly. Gradually, everyone else in the room seemed to disappear, and she and Mr. Adam were the only two people in the house. He danced so beautifully, and when her nervousness would normally get the better of her, she didn’t feel the need to look down at her feet. They both supported each other, and she could feel their lips inch closer together with every passing beat. It was almost intoxicating, dancing with him.

The music slowed, and suddenly a song with a faster beat played.

Belle blinked, like she was coming out a trance. Mr. Adam was gesturing to continue dancing, but her hands flew to her flushed cheeks.

_She couldn’t be doing this… she shouldn’t be doing this._

Without a second though, Belle flew towards the drawing room. Mercifully, the room was empty, and she shut the door behind her.

Soon after, the door opened and closed, Belle turned to see Mr. Adam standing there, a confused look spread across his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, moving towards her, but Belle stepped back.

 “I don’t know what this is. _We_ don’t know what this is.”

“We don’t have to. Let’s just let it happen,” Mr. Adam insisted, moving once more to embrace her. Again, Belle stepped back, shaking her head.

“We can’t! Whatever you may feel for me… or I may feel you… it can never happen.”

“So, you do love me.” The slightest, hopeful smile creeped up into lips

“I never said that.”

“But you do feel something, because I feel the same way. Belle… I love you.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Suddenly, the music in the great hall faded, and the fire roaring in the drawing room felt as if it would swallow her whole. Its sparks and flames wrapped around her, singeing her skin. Her breathing quickened, and her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out.

“Belle…”

“It can never happen!” Belle cried, tears threatening to fall. “There is no conceivable way we could ever be together. You’re a gentleman, the heir to an earldom. You go to parties at fancy hotels in London. You gamble because you don’t have to worry about the amount of money in your pocket. I am not, and can do none of those things. And not to mention your father…”

“I don’t care about any of that…”

Belle shook her head. “Don’t say that because I know it’s not true. I can’t let you give up your inheritance, your home, your life… for me.”

“Belle, please...”

“I can’t do this knowing nothing could ever come of it,” she took a deep breath, “I can’t jeopardize my future for a storybook fantasy.”

Adam stepped back, shocked. “Will you leave Theron?”

Belle considered him, the pain behind his eyes, the way his hands were reaching out to hold hers. How much she wanted to hold them.

“I can’t stay…”

“At least stay until you get another job sorted,” he inched closer to her, and this time she didn’t step back. “Please consider it. Consider _me._ ”

But Belle shook her head once more. “We’ve been living a dream, and now it’s time to return to real life. Wish me luck with it. God knows I wish the best for you.”

And she left the room, leaving Mr. Adam behind her.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> I'm quite excited to have this chapter up in a good time. Thank you for your lovely comments, they're a pleasure! And as always, thank you for your support and kudos.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Kent_

_April 1913_

* * *

Lumiere and Plumette's letter arrived during breakfast, on an unseasonably cold day. Down in the servants' hall, there was still frost clinging to the edges of the glass windows. The last remnants of a long winter finally melting away.

The cold months had become all too long and all too repetitive for Belle, who'd spent them completely focused on her work, both at the estate and for her future endeavors. In the weeks that followed her conversation with Mr. Adam, she realized she couldn't stay at Theron much longer – she couldn't work around a constant  _what if_ – she couldn't let herself give in to the possibility of pursuing it.

Thankfully, Mrs. Potts had been understanding when Belle had asked for her to change her routine to leave the library out of it, however much pain in brought Belle to not work in a room filled with books. And when Lumiere and Plumette had announced their intentions to marry, it thankfully brought a healthy distraction. Since their announcement, Mrs. Potts and Mr. Adam had practically taken it upon themselves to organize the entire wedding.

It had taken place just a week earlier, at the chapel in the village. Despite the chill, garlands of spring flowers were hung all throughout the house: up the bannisters, on the gallery, and adorning the tables. Mr. Adam had even arranged for the carriage to take Plumette from the house to the chapel. Lumiere had chosen Cogsworth as his best man, surprising the butler, and Plumette had asked Belle to be her maid of honour.

Throughout the ceremony and luncheon afterwards, Mr. Adam kept stealing the quickest of glances at her, seeming to explain so much just by the look in his eyes. But Belle never allowed herself to return those glances.

"Well go on, then," Percy insisted as he ate his porridge. The other members of staff nodded in agreement.

Cogsworth opened the letter with his letter opener and unfolded the parchment. "'Greetings from London,'" he began in his deep, but cheerful voice. "'Plumette and I have been greatly enjoying our time in the city. Please tell Mr. Adam that we are ever so grateful for his generosity. We've mainly spent our evening dining in pubs and walking along the Thames – Tower Bridge is a wonder to behold. We were even lucky enough to witness the changing of the guard yesterday.

"'We miss you all very much, and look forward to telling you of our adventures soon.' Signed, Mr. and Mrs. Valois."

"Isn't that nice," Mrs. Potts said. "You better show that letter to Mr. Adam, he'd appreciate it."

"I shall bring it to him when he takes his breakfast," Cogsworth agreed.

The first bell went off with a soft  _ding._

"Speaking of which…" Jasper said, folding up the morning paper.

"Alright everyone, the day's begun." Cogsworth stood from the table, and the rest of the staff followed suit. Wooden chairs scraped against the cold stone floor and soon the table was cleared.

Belle and her fellow housemaid, Ellen, grabbed their supplies and prepared and made the trip up the three flights of stairs to the guest rooms. Cleaning them was a more tedious task than cleaning the library, but at least she had Ellen to keep her company.

Ellen had told her she'd been working at the house since she was no more than a girl. A scullery maid, is what she'd been hired as, and now always seemed to mention how much better it was to clean the grand rooms upstairs than the kitchens below.

They had made it up the stairs and to the first room when Belle realized she'd forgotten the dust bin back down in the supply closet.

"I can go get it," Ellen offered, but Belle shook her head.

"I'd be grateful for the walk," she replied before leaving the room.

Though she was preparing to leave Theron eventually, Belle still loved walking in its splendor, and cherished the moments when she was in its halls (even when carrying cleaning supplies).

"Good morning, Belle."

The voice made her stop in her tracks. She almost ignored him and continued into the servants' passage right then and there, but instead looked up at her employer.

He smiled hopefully at her, his eyes shining from the sun spilling in through the windows.

"Good morning, sir," she said simply, her lips in a thin line. She was careful not to betray any emotion.

"If you ever want to borrow any more books, please–"

"I'm afraid I must get back to my work." She gave him a strained smiled. "But thank you."

Adam nodded thoughtfully, and watched as she exited the gallery down into the servants' passage. On the other side of the door, Belle leaned against the staircase's wooden railing. That was the first time they'd spoken since the servants' ball – and it hurt all the same.

But Belle forced herself to think rationally, remembering that awful letter he'd received from his father. Lest he marry a woman with good prospects, the estate and fortune would go to his cousin. And not to mention the fact that her own reputation and career prospects were at stake. She wanted to travel, to see the libraries of universities on the continent, and she couldn't very well do that if she had no job and no money to pay for it.

"Are you alright?" Jasper asked, ascending the staircase towards her.

"Yes," Belle replied, standing straighter. "I think I might just need a glass of water."

"Perhaps you should have a lie down."

"It's fine, by thank you for your concern." She smiled and continued down the stairs.

The servants' hall was cleared and quiet, as it usually was this time of day. It was in the kitchens where the footmen congregated to take dishes up to the breakfast room. Belle could hear Mrs. Oliver's shouting at some poor scullery maid when she reached the supply closet. Jasper and Percy were good footmen, but the absence of Lumiere was starting to take its toll.

"Oh, Belle, I'm glad I caught you."

Belle whirled around to see Mrs. Potts approaching her with a letter. "This came with this morning's post, it's from your father."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potts," Belle smiled gratefully and took the letter. Once the housekeeper was out of sight, she opened it and scanned its contents.

_My dearest Belle –_

_I just picked up your typewriter from the post office and it's sitting on the dinner table. I haven't even bothered to move it from there because it's so heavy. I have much faith that this investment will pay off. Please feel free to come anytime and test it out._

_Love,_

_Your father._

* * *

Adam must have been standing in the hall for longer than he thought, because Cogsworth came out from the breakfast room and cleared his throat rather loudly to bring him back to reality. The bulter gave him a knowing look Adam was all too familiar with, and he rushed down the stairs to avoid his temper flaring.

It seemed so odd, to be at such a distance from Belle after spending those few precious months together – or, as  _together_ as an employer and maid could be. He knew she only wanted the best for him, and at times he would try and convince himself that he could leave the life of a peer behind him. But in reality, he knew he wasn't cut out for a middle-class life.

At night, Adam would lay awake trying to think of every possible scenario in which he and Belle could live happily together – but every one of them ended in his father's wrath and nothing that wouldn't affect Belle's position at Theron.

That morning, Adam picked measly at his breakfast – tea, eggs, toast, and fruit preserves; lately he couldn't stomach the extravagance Mrs. Oliver's cooking had to offer – and read the paper. One of the main articles was regarding the anniversary of the  _Titanic,_ which also happened to be the day his father sent him back to Theron.

_Had it already been a year since he'd seen London?_ Those first months of his banishment (as he liked to call it) had been ones of misery. He could imagine the staff were just as displeased at his arrival. His father, of course, elected to keep the estate in pristine condition, even when they hadn't been living there for some time. He was willing to spend so much money for the upkeep of the estate, but wouldn't even give so much as another pound to help pay off Adam's spending habits.

Adam remembered when he had first arrived at Theron last year – on a day not unlike this one. The air was chilly, and the staff had been lined up outside the front doors. At first, he could barely stand to look at the house. Since his mother had passed, he'd been at the house on only a few occasions, all of which he'd rather forget. He could still see his mother at the front door, beckoning him inside. He could still see her through the second storey window, reading her favourite book. He could see her in every room of every floor, and for the first time, Adam felt ashamed of the man he had become.

The butler and housekeeper had greeted him with a friendly, hopeful smile, probably thinking he would somehow be the boy they had helped raise a lifetime ago. But they were wrong. Adam had hardly given them a second glance. In his grief and anger, he'd stormed up the staircase and shut himself in his room. It took two days and Mrs. Potts's insistence for him to finally enter back into the world.

"The post, sir," Cogsworth said.

Adam blinked, and then thanked the butler who placed a silver tray with a few letters and a letter opener next to his glass.

"Lumiere and Plumette sent a letter from London," Cogsworth smiled. "The staff were very pleased by it."

"I'm glad they're enjoying it. It was the least I could do for them." Adam read the letter form the newlyweds, reminiscing of his time in London. His experience had been much different than that of his staff, but he couldn't help but remember Ned, his only true friend.

Adam didn't even know if  _that_ was true anymore.

The second letter on the tray was from his aunt, Anna, and her husband Sir Frederick. It seemed like they were to be embarking on a trip to Asia for a few weeks, and his cousins Elizabeth and Ada were to stay at Theron during that period.

Adam sighed and leaned back against his chair. If for nothing else, he was grateful it was Cousin Elizabeth and Cousin Ada. It could be worse.

It could have been her aunt Margaret asking her children to stay.

* * *

Despite all the preparations being made for Miss Elizabeth and Miss Ada's arrival the next day, Belle found some time to walk down to the village to visit her father. She had managed to find Mrs. Potts at a good hour, and the housekeeper had allowed her to take the afternoon off.

The weather had warmed a bit, and her father was outside in the gardens, tending to the vegetables. He wrapped her in an embrace, and they both entered the cottage where he already had a pot of tea brewing.

The new typewriter was still on the kitchen table, taking up a little less than half of its room. Belle took a few moments to marvel at the machine, and now ached to complete her first typing course.

"How had it been? Since…" Her father asked while sipping his tea.

In truth, Belle didn't really know. It certainly hadn't been better, but at the same time enjoyed the company of the staff at Theron. They had become her only true friends.

"It's been different," were the words Belle settled on. "Busy, too, what with the wedding and Miss Elizabeth and Miss Ada visiting tomorrow. But I know I can't stay there, which is why I'm so grateful you agreed to have this brought here." She gestured to the typewriter. "Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts would have a fit if they saw it, and I don't want the other staff to know I'm taking courses. At least not yet."

Her father nodded, but still wore a look of uncertainty. "And you're completely sure about this?"

"I am, Papa," Belle smiled. "Working at Theron is such a joy, but I think now it's time to move on."

"I just want to make sure you're leaving for the right reasons," he sighed. "That you're not rushing out of a stable job because of your feelings for Lord Villeneuve's son."

"I understand your concerns, Papa, I really do. But I know myself. I know I can't continue to work at Theron when I have to keep stopping myself from dreaming about all the possibilities in which Mr. Adam and I could be together, especially when he'll eventually be forced to marry another woman. It's too much."

It was already April, and Mr. Adam had received that horrid letter in November. Half the year had passed and he'd made no indication of honouring his Lordship's threat. He'd told her he would leave his life behind for her – but at what cost would that come? Belle didn't want to be the reason for him leaving his friends, and everything he'd ever known behind. If she were in his position, he would tell her the same.

"I know," her father finally responded. "But please take your time, and know I'm always here for you."

"Thank you, Papa." She smiled softly, taking a sip of her tea. "And don't worry. The courses should take a few weeks, and they'll need to be sent by post. And since I have the afternoon off, I thought I could start one right away."

"Of course," he laughed. "But you'll need to help me move it to the study."

After tea, Belle and her father carefully moved the heavy typewriter from the kitchen to the small study desk in the corner of the cottage. Thankfully, the desk itself wasn't used all that often, as her father preferred to use the upright easel for his paintings, and the large workbench in the basement for his tinkering. There were a few new paintings, mostly of the gardens or the village, but one caught her attention.

The painting was of Tower Bridge, in London. "When did you do this?" Belle asked in astonishment.

"Earlier this month. It's for you, I know how much you want to visit the city."

"Thank you, Papa," Belle exclaimed, embracing her father. "It's truly beautiful."

"Now, you must get started on that course, or Mrs. Potts will be none too happy with you arriving back late."

* * *

Elizabeth and Ada arrived just after midday.

The single motor car rolled up the long drive way, and the chauffeur opened the doors for the two ladies. Elizabeth, carrying a book under her arm, looked delighted to be arriving. Her younger sister, on the other hand, just looked glad the trip was over.

Adam approached his cousins as the footmen and maids took away their cases. "How was the trip?"

"Perfectly alright," Elizabeth replied.

"Perfectly boring," Ada interjected, which made Elizabeth roll her eyes.

"Mama and Papa saw us off in London, but their train doesn't leave until tomorrow."

"Why don't you come in for some tea in the library?" Adam followed his two cousins into the house as the rest of the staff retreated back through the servants' entrance.

"You're certainly more chipper than when we last visited," Elizabeth noted with a smile. "Something different?"

_Different_ was an understatement. And by all means, his circumstances were worse than the last time he hosted family.

When they entered the bright library, he almost expected Belle to be there, dusting the curtains or polishing the windows. In fact, he imagined it quite a bit, and was disappointed every time he found himself alone the spacious room. Quickly, he shook off his dangerous thoughts.

"It's one thing to host just the two of you," Adam said after settling in, taking a bite of a blueberry scone. "It's another thing entirely to host you  _and_ the rest of my father's extended family."

"I know what you mean," Elizabeth replied before gesturing for her sister to stop eating all the biscuits. "Just because Mama and Papa aren't here doesn't mean you can't eat all the biscuits," she said whispered to her sister, to which Ada made a disappointed noise.

"I think we can afford it just this once," Adam smirked, handing his young cousin another biscuit.

Elizabeth shook her head and continued. "You should count yourself lucky you didn't go over to Brankford Park for the holidays. Cousin Edward was his usual self, but poor Cousin Theresa. Her fiancé left her because of all those rumours concerning the late Mr. Holloway. And of course, Aunt Margaret is practically pushing every man with generous prospects at her."

Adam shook his head. "If Cousin Theresa's fiancé wasn't going to stay with her just because of some outlandish rumours, then it is Theresa who should count herself lucky. The bastard wouldn't have lasted long if he jumped at the first sign of trouble."

"More chipper  _and_ a sentimentalist," Elizabeth noted with a curious smile. "And who do we have to thank for this change in attitude?"

"Never you mind about it." He smiled, but beneath it he truly wondered if it had all been because of Belle. It might be a dangerous thought, especially since the devastation of a conversation they had during the servants' ball, and because sooner or later his father would no doubt find him a bride. But even in spite of it all, he couldn't imagine himself acting the way he did before he was sent to Theron.

Perhaps the conversation between him and Belle was for the best, as difficult as it was to think about. She was right about him. He didn't even know how to live a life away from the servants, the estates, and the privilege, much less be exiled into one. Still, that spark of hope remained in the back of his mind. Belle was smart, resourceful. She would be able to help him lead that life. But she was also stubborn, perhaps more stubborn than anyone he'd ever met. Belle wouldn't want to risk the possibility. She was probably right.

The cousins continued to talk until the tea pot was empty and Percy had brought them another plate of biscuits, at Ada's request. Adam found himself surprised to admit it, but he was enjoying the company of his two cousins. They weren't haughty and overly posh like Cousins Edward and Alexander, and nor did they particularly care for peer gossip like their parents did.

"And how is London?" Adam asked sometime later, when he and Elizabeth were taking a walk along the Theron grounds. Ada, of course, was off riding in the company of Theron's groom, Beckett. Elizabeth had said she hardly gets time to ride, especially in the city, and would be hard get her off the horse once the dressing gong rang.

Elizabeth shrugged at the question. "London is London. It's busy, noisy, and rainy. Mama and Papa go out to parties quite often, so in the evening it's typically just Ada and me. Though, they've been fussing more and more over my Season next year. They seem to be completely determined to find a husband for me the same year. One night, they even invited a fellow named Vincent Mayford to dinner. Dull as a brick, but he's the heir to the Earl of Langley so that's all they really care about."

"I know how you feel," Adam replied earnestly. "My father sent me a letter last November, demanding that I marry within the year lest the estate and money go… go to Cousin Edward." It pained him to say the words.

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and gave him a concerned look. "How awful, I'm so sorry."

"He needs more money for the estate, and won't accept a woman who doesn't have the right prospects. In truth, he'll just end up picking someone for me, because I certainly won't do it."

"You know, you'll always be welcome in London with us," she said.

Adam couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "And your parents won't mind the disgraced son of Villeneuve living under their roof?"

Elizabeth waved off the notion. "They'd get over it eventually. And besides, if I  _do_ get married next year there should be more than enough room at my future husband's spacious estate."

"Don't tempt me, now I'm actually considering it."

The dressing gong rang through the grounds, and they exchanged an exasperated look. "Who's the lucky one that's going to break the news to Ada?"

* * *

Though she had been brought up in the ways of high society her whole life, Miss Elizabeth Donovan wasn't one for dinner protocol.

Her father, a rather wealthy owner of a London publishing house always insisted on respecting the peer traditions. That, of course, included wearing proper dinner attire and for the ladies to go through to the drawing room before the men after the service. Elizabeth never understood why the women couldn't be privy to whatever the men were talking about over port and brandy and cigars. Even during dinner service, whenever anyone brought up even the topic of politics her father would shut the conversation down.

"We mustn't bore the ladies," he would say, and her mother would change the subject to the latest London gossip.

Elizabeth, who often tried to bring up the topic of the women's vote, rolled her eyes at her father's continuous antics.

At Theron, she expected the dinner service to be mercifully more relaxed than at her home in London, but it seemed they were to dress the part. However, she expected she would be able to freely speak about politics, and no doubt the after-dinner service would not be so formal.

When Elizabeth entered her room after spending close to ten minutes bargaining with Ada, a maid was already waiting inside. She jumped upon seeing the woman, not expecting it.

"I didn't mean to startle you, miss," the maid said sincerely.

"No, no," she replied. "It's perfectly alright. I'm sorry for being late, my sister can be quite difficult." She started to undress, and the maid came over to help. "Is Plumette not here?" She asked after a moment. "I know she usually acts as my lady's maid when we're over."

"She's actually just gotten married, she's away on honeymoon."

"Oh, how wonderful for her."

"My name's Belle, miss. I shall be taking care of you for your stay."

After getting into a light grey gown, she took a seat at the vanity where Belle started to pin her hair up.

"I could swear I've seen you before, Belle."

"I actually attended to your sister when you were last here."

Elizabeth smiled brightly. "Ah yes, of course! She talked quite a bit about you."

"All good things, I hope," Belle replied as she put another pin in Elizabeth's hair.

"Terribly good." She was just about to go downstairs to the drawing room before she spoke again. "Belle, I would like to request a favour of you." She gauged the maid's reaction, but it didn't seem to cause that much surprise. "This may seem forward, but I told Cousin Adam that would need to go into Canterbury a few times this week, to put together a surprise for Mama and Papa. I also said that I would like my maid to accompany me."

"Yes, of course."

"The thing is… we would really be going to a few of the women's political rallies. Mama and Papa would never let me go in London and now I have an opportunity that I wouldn't miss. You don't have to come if you're not comfortable, of course, but I would like someone there with me."

Belle considered her request for a moment, before agreeing.

"Oh, thank you, Belle!" she cried and practically hugged her. This, of course, took the maid aback. "Thank you so much," she repeated before hurrying down the stairs.

* * *

Since taking on the job at Theron, Belle had been to Canterbury only a few times, but never for something such as this.

All around her were men and women, some listening attentively to the speaker up above them, some arguing, and some hurling insults.

And yet, there was such an excitement to it.

Belle had been nervous during the car ride into the city, but it had all melted away when they were immersed in the political rhetoric of the crowd. She'd read a few books on politics from the Theron library, but nothing compared to her surroundings now. The excitement was almost contagious, weaving its way through her veins like blood.

Beside her, Miss Elizabeth was completely engrossed in the words of the speaker, and when the rally concluded, she went on and on about it until they pulled up into the drive.

The next rally they went to, to Belle's surprise, wasn't a rally at all but the counting of the votes for the county's local by-election. The crowds were rowdier, which made Belle nervous, but didn't seem to upset Miss. Elizabeth one bit.

"I thought I'd never be able to witness this," Miss. Elizabeth said, though her voice was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowds.

As the man on the wooden platform above them announced the final number of votes for the parties, those around her continued to cry and heckle. A small group cried " _Votes for women! Votes for women!"_ Others booed and cheered as their preferred party was announced.

Despite herself, Belle found that she was clinging to Miss Elizabeth's arm, though she hardly seemed disturbed by it. Men and women were pouring into the rally space like mice fleeing a cat, many of which were none too polite about pushing their way through others. Both Belle and Miss Elizabeth were both practically knocked over on more than a few occasions.

Suddenly, a hand was on her shoulder, and Belle immediately whipped around to see to who it was.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" Mr. Adam cried. Belle knew he was talking to his cousin, but he gave a meaningful glance to her as well.

"I couldn't miss this," Miss Elizabeth said, not taking her eyes off the wooden platform.

"Really? I could," he commented dryly.

"Miss Elizabeth, perhaps we should go," Belle shouted amid the rising volume. "These lot look as if they're spoiling for a fight."

"Belle's right," Mr. Adam said, trying to pull his cousin away from the crowd.

It was then that Belle noticed a group of burly men pushing their way into the crowd. They were  _definitely_ looking for a fight. One of them was heading straight for Mr. Adam.

Belle gasped, and with a racing heart, nudged her employer lightly. "Mr. Adam…"

He turned and saw the group of men she was worried about. The man approaching them was shoving others out of his way, but also leaning on a few for balance. Clearly, he had too much to drink beforehand.

"Look, we don't want trouble," Mr. Adam tried to explain.

"Oh, and what's your problem, Mr. La-di-da?" the large man grumbled.

"My problem is you," he replied before dodging a punch from the drunk man. Mr. Adam returned a punch, swinging at him at the side of his cheek. But it didn't keep the man down. As Belle was keeping Miss Elizabeth back from the fight, Mr. Adam was pushed down against the sharp edge of a wooden table.

Both women gasped, Miss Elizabeth rushing towards her cousin while Belle instinctively took an empty bottle from the table and swung at the drunk man.

Everything was moving so fast that Belle didn't see where she'd hit him, but the next thing she knew was that Miss Elizabeth was telling her to take one of Mr. Adam's arms over her shoulders and help him to their motor car.

"Putting together a surprise for your parents?" Mr. Adam said once they were in the driving away from the city.

"Where are you hurt?" Miss Elizabeth ignored his question.

Belle was in the front seat with the chauffeur, Booth, while Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Adam occupied the back.

"The arm… my ankle… and my shoulder feels ghastly," he grimaced.

"You don't suppose we could get into the house undetected?"

"And why would that be? Because you lied about your whereabouts, and put yourself, and a member of staff in danger?"

Belle blushed in the passenger's seat.

"If Mama and Papa hear about this they'll never let me out of their sights again," Miss Elizabeth cried. "And what in God's name were you doing in Canterbury anyway?"

"I was at the tailor. Finally purchasing some new clothes. And it was a good thing, too."

Belle, Mr. Adam, and Miss Elizabeth had made it halfway up the staircase before Mrs. Potts came into the foyer and spotted them.

"What on Earth–"

"It's a long story," Miss Elizabeth started.

"And I'm not seriously injured," Mr. Adam interjected.

"I think Dr. Nichols will be the judge of that," she said sternly before returning to the servants' passage.

Belle and Miss Elizabeth helped Mr. Adam to his bed, and together dressed the wound on his arm. It wasn't a deep cut, but it ran from his wrist and up his forearm.

"I'm terribly sorry about this…" Miss Elizabeth said after a while.

"It's not serious," he replied, sitting up a little straighter in his bed. "And don't worry, your parents won't hear of this from me."

She smiled wide and hugged him gently. "Oh, thank you!"

"Now, do you mind fetching me  _Lancelot and Guinevere_ from the library? It should be on the table by the settee."

She nodded and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her. Belle, who was standing at the edge of the four-poster bed felt sweat collecting on her palms.

"I should be going, Mrs. Potts will be wondering where I am," Belle said, turning to leave.

"No, please wait," Mr. Adam said, his hand outstretched.

Everything in her mind told her to continue walking, but she didn't. Instead, Belle approached the side of the bed.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Belle opened her mouth, but no words came out. Finally, she said, "Fine. Just a little rattled."

"It seems as if we'll always be destined to rescue each other," he commented with a smirk.

She blushed and felt heat rise to her cheeks. "That doesn't seem like a very good way to live," she said.

"Oh, I don't know. I think we could make a go of it."

If it was possible, the flush on her cheeks deepened and she looked down at her lap. "I wish you wouldn't flirt. It makes things so difficult."

She could feel herself drawing nearer to him, and he was doing the same. Against her better judgement, she didn't back away. She couldn't explain it, but everything felt right.

"I like difficult," he whispered.

Suddenly, his hand was on her cheek.

They were drawn in closer.

Their lips brushed.

The door opened with a soft click.

Belle pulled away in an instant. Thankfully, it was only Miss Elizabeth at the door. "I should…" Belle started, trying to find the words. "I should go."

That night as she lay in bed, trying to convince herself how foolish she was being, she couldn't help but replay those few moments over and over. They haunted her. They worried her, about her future, about what it meant for Mr. Adam.

But most of all, it worried her that she was falling in love with him.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> Thank you for being so patient, and as always, thanks for the support, kudos, and comments. Enjoy!

_Kent_

_May 1913_

* * *

The letter Adam received during breakfast was unexpected, to say the least.

It was from Ned who, after his letter in October, had written him at times that were few and far in between. It surprised him even more that the letter contained an invitation.

A wedding invitation.

_The Duke and Duchess of Warwick_

_Request the pleasure of the company of the Honourable Adam Savoy and guest_

_At the marriage of their daughter_

_Lady Caroline Alice Weston_

_To_

_The Honourable Edmund James Lynn_

_At St. Paul's Cathedral in London on Wednesday, the twenty-fifth of June nineteen thirteen at ten-thirty in the morning._

Adam read the invitation over before even looking at the letter accompanying it. More than just his friend's request to attend his wedding, it was an opportunity to get out of the country for a few blessed days. At the same time, he found himself hesitating at this request. He was not the same person now than he was during his days partying and gambling in London, and the very thought to being in the company of those he used to associate with filled him with certain dread. To them, he was still the reckless young man, all-too happy to spend his father's fortune on anything and everything.

And then, he read Ned's accompanying letter.

_To the Honourable Adam Savoy,_

_Adam –_

_I'm terribly sorry to have not written you in quite some time. If you've seen the attached invitation, you probably know why._

_Honestly, I don't know what I'm expecting – you haven't responded to any of my previous letters, but lately I've felt it necessary to ask all the same. I would truly appreciate it if you were to attend the wedding. After spending so many years gallivanting around London together, your presence would be sorely missed._

_This next request may be too presumptuous of me, but I would like you to be my best man._

Adam stopped for a moment, almost dropping his tea cup. He read the line again to make sure he saw it correctly.

_I would like you to be my best man._

Despite himself, he laughed. Ned couldn't be serious, could he? There must be so many other men who would be a much better as Ned's best man.

But then he read the letter again.

And a strange sense of pride weaved its way through his body. Out of all the people he considered friends from his previous life, none had ever asked him of something such as this. Adam hadn't even  _thought_ he'd be asked of something such as this. He'd always assumed there would be someone better and more trustworthy. It's not as if  _he_ had been the most responsible person in his youth – that was for sure.

But to visit London again, this time away from the parties and the gossip, sounded like a dream. Of course, he would be invited to numerous parties and dinners and clubs and the like, but he would be able to weave in and out of those without too much trouble, especially with his father practically breathing down his back.

Adam looked at the invitation again when a foolish thought crossed his mind.

He should bring Belle as his guest.

It seemed as if it had only been yesterday when they had become so close to sharing a kiss, to  _finally_ sharing a kiss, though fate seemed determined to split them apart. Adam had to stop himself from kissing her still when the door had opened and his cousin walked in. When Belle had left in a hurry that night, the two had shared an awkward silence for an eternity.

"How much did you see?" Adam had finally said after a while, he didn't know how long. Elizabeth had taken a seat on the settee near the foot of the bed and was wearing an unreadable expression.

"I know you were about to kiss," she replied, her lips pulled into a thin line. She couldn't quite look him in the eyes.

"And you don't approve?"

Elizabeth scoffed and crossed her arms. "I'm not Papa, or Aunt Margaret. Or your father." A tiniest smile made its way to the corner of her lips. "I don't give a fig if she's a maid. I just want you to be careful, and to not get her in trouble, or yourself, for that matter."

"Mrs. Potts, Belle, and now you have all told me the same thing."

"And you should listen to us. We women know best."

"Elizabeth… I love her," he confessed, and it felt good to tell someone else. To finally have those words exit his lips. It felt so good to say them.

"I know I love her, I don't want to love anyone else. And I know you'll call me foolish, but I really do. Everything is just impossible with my father and the poor girl he'll no doubt end up choosing as my bride and Cousin Edward…" he trailed off, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists.

"You're not foolish if you know your own heart. Others may call you foolish, but I won't. You have an ally in me, Adam. If you ever need someone to defend you at family dinners, I'll be in your corner. You just need to fight for her." She paused, thinking. "Your father may seem as if he has complete power over your future, but he doesn't. No one does."

"Thank you for being so kind. I feel I don't deserve it sometimes after the way I blew this family off for so many years."

"That's hardly your fault… well not completely. I've heard some nasty stories in the papers about you and I'm sure you're in the wrong for those." The smile creeped up further as she let out a short giggle.

"Yes, I'm afraid I am," Adam replied, laughing. "God, it feels like a lifetime ago."

"It was. And let's be glad about it."

Adam blinked back to reality, realizing he was still staring at the letter and invitation. "Cogsworth," he cleared his throat and addressed the butler.

"Yes, sir?" He asked, inching his way closer from the corner of the room.

"It seems I have been invited to Mr. Edmund Lynn's wedding, and he wants me as his best man."

"I see," was all the older man said.

"I know Lord Villeneuve is determined to keep me in my confinement here, but I would very much like to fulfill my obligations to my friend."

To that, the butler said nothing, but the smallest of smiles creeped onto his face. To Adam, it was a small victory.

"No, I'm sure his Lordship would not allow you to travel to London," Cogsworth said.

"Remind me of his whereabouts," Adam requested, smirking at the letter.

"I believe he's currently travelling on the Continent and doesn't have plans to return until July."

"Which, of course, gives me plenty of time to travel to London and back for Ned's wedding."

"Yes, I believe it does."

Adam smiled triumphantly. His father didn't have control over him. He  _would not_ have control over him.

* * *

It was almost time for Mr. Adam's afternoon tea when Mrs. Potts had to shoo away the maids and footmen out of the front hall.

_Good heavens,_ in all her years she had never seen such a display. The maids were crowded around the polished oak console table, whispering amongst each other, while the footmen were talking with a stout man in a dark tweed suit whom she had never seen before.

"Get back to work, the lot of you," Mrs. Potts called to the staff, but they only stared at her with excitement in their eyes.

_What on God's green earth has gotten into them?_

"Oh, Mrs. Potts!" Belle exclaimed cheerfully, practically dragging the housekeeper over to where they were standing. "Have you seen anything like it?"

"What is it?" One of the younger maids breathed.

"It's a telephone!" Mrs. Potts said in shock and turned towards the stout man. "You must be Mr. Wells."

"That I am," Mr. Wells said, tipping his hat.

"I apologize for the staff, if I knew you were coming today I would have told them to stay away, but it appears Cogsworth forgot to mention it," the housekeeper said, annoyance trickling into her voice towards the end of her sentence.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Mr. Wells replied. "It's good that people are interested – the telephone business is really booming, I'll need to hire extra staff to keep up with the demands."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! I've just installed three down at Belmont House for the Baron Harris."

The man was about to continue discussing his achievements when Cogsworth stepped into the front hall and was clearly taken aback by what he saw.

"Mr. Adam has just come back from his ride, and the tea should be ready to serve," he said in his usual grumbly tone.

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Potts replied. "Now, shoo, all of you! When you're not working I believe you can watch Mr. Wells install a telephone downstairs."

"There's going to be one in the servants' hall?" Percy asked excitedly.

"In  _my office_ ," Cogsworth corrected, clearly annoyed by the whole situation. "Now get going. I don't want Mr. Adam to come down to see his entire staff gawking."

Once the staff finally dissipated back down into the servants' hall, Mrs. Potts caught the butler before heading into the library to lay the tea.

"You forgot to mention the telephones were being installed today," she said.

"Did I? I must have mentioned it."

"You didn't." She paused. "Is something distracting you?"

"Now that you mention it… Mr. Adam received a letter this morning from his friend, Mr. Edmund Lynn."

"Oh?"

"It contained a wedding invitation."

Mrs. Potts didn't say anything, but raised her eyebrows, knowing there was more to the story.

" _In London._ "

Another pause.

"And Mr. Adam has been selected to be the  _best man_ ," Cogsworth finished.

"My goodness, and he's planning on going?"

"Yes, of course, he has decided to go with or  _without_ His Lordship's support."

"And is he planning on opening the house?"

"I don't think he has worked out all the details."

Before the housekeeper could ask another question, a jaunty set of footsteps bounded down the grand staircase. Mr. Adam was fresh-faced, his blond hair neatly brushed, and there were no traces of the ride he'd just been on.

He had changed out of this riding clothes into a sleek dark grey suit with a perfectly pressed linen shirt and gold silk cravat. Mrs. Potts blinked when she saw him. The suit looked  _new_. And not in the way that Mr. Adam insisted on sending his suits to London to be cleaned and pressed, but  _recently bought._ If she recalled correctly, he hadn't purchased any new clothing since coming back to Theron.

"Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts!" Adam said, his voice chipper as he approached them. "Just the two people I wanted to see."

"What can we do for you, sir?" Mrs. Potts asked.

"This morning, I received an invitation to Mr. Edmund Lynn's wedding, you know, the son of the Viscount and Viscountess Uxbridge."

"Yes, I believe I've been filled in on the details."

"Perfect. I plan to head up to London five days before the wedding, and to stay for a few days afterwards. Savoy House will need to be opened, so if it's not too much to ask I would like you and a few of the staff to come along. Chappeau, the footmen, Mrs. Oliver, and a few of the maids – Plumette and Belle."

"To work in London?" Cogsworth asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Dare I ask if we will be entertaining?" Mrs. Potts asked, slightly worried. Mr. Adam always used to throw extravagant parties at Savoy House whenever his Lordship was not in London. The guests always danced until dawn, leaving the staff with hardly any sleep. Though Cogsworth was had instilled in the boy to always make them aware as to whether they were expecting Mr. Adam's rowdy companions, there would always be one night wherein an onslaught guests would arrive without a moment's notice.

"No, nothing big. Perhaps just a dinner for Mr. Edmund. Oh, and the day of the wedding you should do something special with the staff. Visit a museum, or something. My treat."

Mrs. Potts's eyes widened in surprise.  _Well, I never._ "That's very generous of you."

"It's the least I could do." Without saying anything further, Adam disappeared into the library for tea.

The butler and the housekeeper shared a long, shocked look. After coming to terms with what had just happened, Mrs. Potts was the first to speak.

"Well, I guess that answers that."

* * *

"Did I hear correctly that you're looking to hire new staff?" Belle asked the man installing the telephone in Carson's study – Mr. Wells. The footmen were busy serving Mr. Adam's tea, and Belle finally had a few minutes to herself.

"You heard correctly, miss," the man replied, shifting his gaze from the machine towards her.

"What kind of staff?"

"A couple men to install the telephones, and a secretary or two to keep up and record the amount of inquiries we've been receiving."

"The thing is," Belle started, and paused out of nervousness. "The thing is, I was wondering if I could give you my CV. I'd like to be considered for a job as a secretary. I've been doing very well with my typing courses, and I'm a hard worker."

The man smiled softly. "I have no doubt. Tell you what, why don't you give me your CV and I can try to squeeze you in for an interview in the coming weeks?"

"Of course, thank you!" Belle replied and had to stop herself from bolting up the stairs to her room. Still, it was odd, feeling excited to potentially leave a job she loved so much. But she knew it was the right choice. She would be making better wages, and she might finally be able to put her feelings about Mr. Adam to rest.

It was dangerous – every moment she stayed at Theron, the more she felt drawn to Mr. Adam. And that night.

The night they almost kissed.

_No,_ she was being silly. It was a silly dream out of a novel. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing. Her job at Theron was stable, she had friends – though they felt as if they were family. Perhaps she could navigate her feelings a little while longer. Until she was sure.

Belle shook her head as she reached for her CV and reference Mrs. Potts had generously written her from the drawer of her bedside table. She was being completely foolish – by staying at Theron, her dream of having any sort of relationship with her employer would only grow, and so would her inevitable disappointment. It simply wasn't worth the heartbreak she knew she would endure.

Clutching onto her documents, Belle hurried back down the stairs and into the servants' hall.

"These seem to be in order," Mr. Wells said, rifling through the papers. "I shall contact you, so we can set an interview date."

"Thank you, Mr. Wells," Belle replied, grinning from ear to ear. "It's very much appreciated."

It was later in the afternoon that day when Mr. Adam caught her doing her chores in the bachelor's corridor. Belle tried to say she was much too busy to talk, and Mr. Adam seemed rather insistent. Finally, the two entered one of guest rooms and he shut the door.

"How very scandalous of you," Belle commented, noting the impropriety of her being alone once again with her employer.

Mr. Adam waved it off nonchalantly. "It's nothing new for me."

"Now, what is it you want to tell me? Mrs. Potts will notice my absence if I'm not down by the time the dinner gong rings."

"Cogsworth will probably announce it at dinner, but I wanted to tell you first," he said, smiling wildly. He could barely contain his excitement.

"Tell me what?"

"We are going to London!"

Belle blinked, wondering if she had heard him correctly, if she was dreaming.  _London? We?_ What on earth was he talking about?

"W- I don't understand."

"I've just been invited to an old friend's wedding back in London, and we'll be staying in Savoy House for the duration of the trip."

"I still don't understand," Belle said incredulously.

"The staff and I – which includes you – will be taking a trip to London for my friend's wedding," he said, laughing.

Belle still couldn't believe it, was Mr. Adam actually saying they would be going to London? Or was it some nasty joke? She looked her employer up and down, but his expression was so sincere. She broke out into a wide smile and laugh. She could hug him. She could  _kiss_ him.

"I can't believe it," she breathed. "I'm going to London!"

"There's more…" he said slowly, deliberately, as if planning his words carefully. "I want you to be my guest at the wedding."

Belle's eyes widened. Now he really  _was_ joking. "You cannot be serious"

"I am."

"But – how would it even be possible? I'm sure it's a high society wedding, and there is no way you can be seen with me –"

"That's the thing. I  _want_ to be seen with you. And don't ever think you're not good enough for London society, because you are."

"But it's not even that, how can I talk to your friends? They'll surely ask how we met, where I'm from, what I do…"

"You can tell them as little or as much as you want. I don't want you to be intimidated. Perhaps that you grew up in the village – which is true, that we met at the annual village fair – which is somewhat true, and that we've become good friends – which I hope is true. And I would consider it a stretch to call most of them 'my friends'," Mr. Adam said.

Belle considered it for a moment. She could already see herself walking the streets of London along Piccadilly, past Buckingham Palace, along the Mall, she wanted to be there terribly. Then she imagined herself as a guest of Adam's at this wedding, dwarfed by all the glamour and pomp. But she couldn't help but he drawn to it. And besides – when would she ever be able to go to such an esteemed event in London's high society again? If Mr. Adam thought he would be able to make it work, she trusted him. It would be her last hurrah at Theron before moving on.

"Then of course, it would be my pleasure to accompany you," Belle smiled gratefully, and felt heat rise to her cheeks. But a thought crossed her mind. "What about His Lordship? What will he say about you leaving the estate?"

Mr. Adam just smiled. "I don't give a damn what His Lordship thinks."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! 
> 
> I'm so exited for you all to read this chapter, so hopefully you enjoy it. Thank you for your patience, and as always, thank you for your lovely comments, kudos, and support. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_London_

_June 1913_

* * *

Though it had been closed for the better part of a year, Savoy House was still the jewel of St. James's Square, with its intricately carved limestone façade, marble columns, and gilded windows. From the windows of the servants' rooms on the top floor, one could see Buckingham Palace just through the trees, as well as its raised flag. The Royal Standard – as opposed to the Union Jack – denoted that King George V himself was currently in the residence. Savoy House was the largest townhome in the square, built by Mr. Adam's great-great-grandfather in the early eighteenth century, by the same architect that remolded the Palace of Versailles from an old hunting lodge to the glittering centre of the French Court. Lumiere had explained its history as they had ridden through the busy London streets, all crammed in the back of a cab.

Cogsworth and Mrs. Oliver had been the first to arrive at Savoy House to prepare, and then came Mrs. Potts, the footmen, and maids.

"It makes no difference to me whether we're setting the table in Kent or setting the table in London," Jasper commented now, as they were filing into the servants' hall. "A dining table's a dining table."

"But it helps to be surrounded by libraries and museums and theatres," Belle said, still amazed by her surroundings even though she was still in a servants' hall. The kitchens at Savoy House were smaller than those at Theron, but the ovens and burners were polished within an inch of their lives, the countertops sparkled, and fresh herbs and vegetables sat in large ceramic bowls. Despite being constructed in the mid-1700s, everything looked  _new._

"It's not like you'll be able to see them all," the footman replied.

Despite herself, Belle blushed. She hadn't told anyone – except Plumette, of course – about Mr. Adam's plan to bring her to Mr. Edmund Lynn's wedding. They had devised an elaborate scheme: On the day of the wedding, Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts were planning to take the staff for a day by sea. Belle would say she wasn't feeling well enough, and just before Mr. Adam left for the wedding, she would sneak out and then meet him at the corner of the road. Then of course, she would be back before the rest of the staff came back from their day trip.

"Enough chatter, all you," Mrs. Potts said, coming out of the housekeeper's sitting room. "Mr. Adam's arriving on the eight o'clock train and this house has to be clean from top to bottom!"

Excitedly, Belle, Plumette, and a few other maids raced up the stairs and entered the main parlour.

If it were even possible, Savoy House was grander on the inside than out. Above them were not one, but two galleries open to the parlour below. Each had marble and gilded bannisters, which also lined the grand staircase leading to the second and third floors. Massive paintings hung on the walls, one the coronation portrait of George II, and others displaying what must be Savoy ancestors. Light flooded into the rooms as curtains were drawn, and Belle lost count of the number of gilded doors being propped open. But most beautifully of all, a giant crystal chandelier hung from the very top of the ceiling. Even though its lights weren't on, each of the crystals caught the sunlight and made the rooms brighter still.

"Once you're done staring," Plumette said, tapping her shoulder gently. "You can come and help me take the sheets off the furniture in the drawing room."

Belle caught her bearings and followed her into the spacious room. "When were you last here?" she asked after a while.

"Oh, years ago. Perhaps when Mr. Adam was sixteen or seventeen? I was still a scullery maid at the time, so I didn't get to see much of the house, at least not in this light. It was always early in the morning or late at night when I was doing my chores up here." Plumette paused, thinking. After removing another white sheet from the low oak table, she spoke again. "To be honest, it was always a relief to go back to Theron after the Season. There were fewer parties, it was quieter… His Lordship typically wasn't there to shout at Mr. Adam… After a while both stopped moving back and forth altogether. They were always traveling or staying at Savoy House with a separate staff. When Mr. Adam came back to Theron last year, it was the first time most of the staff had seen him in many years."

Belle remained silent, not knowing what to say. Once they were finally finished in the drawing room and carrying the folded white sheets in their arms, Belle finally said: "I hope this time in London will prove a far better experience."

Plumette smiled gratefully. "It already has."

* * *

The night before the wedding, Adam hosted a dinner for Ned, and though he had specifically told Mrs. Oliver for a simple three-course meal, she couldn't resist pulling out all the stops. She had prepared a dinner service which would be better served to a party of ten, rather than an anxious groom and his equally anxious best man. And though Adam mentioned this to Ned, he took it all in stride.

"You know how much I love Mrs. Oliver's cooking," Ned smiled as he served himself the buttery sole meunière from Jasper's tray. "I do hope she has made some of that delectable chocolate and mint torte."

Adam laughed, remembering all the times as young boys when they would sneak down to the Savoy House kitchens in search of extra torte. Mrs. Oliver or Mrs. Potts would always end up finding them with their shirt sleeves rolled up, digging through the pantries. But rather than encourage the wrath of his father, the cook would set out a plate for them to eat in the privacy of Mrs. Potts's sitting room.

"I'm sure she's not forgotten how much you love it," Adam said, biting into a piece of asparagus roasted with garlic and butter. "And… I am sorry I haven't responded to any of your letters. I guess I was too ashamed."

"You have nothing to be ashamed for. It's really your father who's to blame."

Adam shook his head. "But I really did act terribly during my London days. I'm surprised you've managed to stay my friend all these years." He tried to laugh lightly, but it came off as unsure.

"My, the country certainly has changed you."

_Not necessarily_ what,  _but_ who, Adam thought to himself, but he didn't dare say it aloud. Cosgworth and the footmen were still in the dining room, after all.

"Yes," was all Adam said. "Perhaps it has,"

* * *

The next morning seemed to be a complete blur up until Adam's cab stopped at the far corner of St. James's park, and Belle entered hastily.

"What is it?" She asked beside him.

Adam couldn't seem to find the right words. He was just taking in the sight of her. Belle looked absolutely radiant in the pale-yellow silk and taffeta day dress. Her hair was fastened into a low loose chignon, and a matching cloche hat adorned with sprigs of lavender completed her look.

_She was beautiful._

"Mr. Adam – "

"You look…" he cleared his throat, getting a hold of himself. "You look lovely."

Belle blushed deeply. "I must say you look very handsome as well."

Adam was dressed in a morning suit he'd recently purchased from the tailor in Canterbury. The trousers were the traditional grey with thin vertical stripes, while his waist coat was a pale yellow not unlike Belle's dress. His cravat and shirt were pale blue, and his morning coat was a shade of dark grey.

"I can't thank you enough for letting me borrow the dress. How did you ever manage it?" Belle added.

Adam smiled. "Cousin Elizabeth helped me on that score. I wrote to her as soon as I told you about the wedding, and she was kind enough to send over a few of her dresses. Plumette and I picked out the one you're wearing." He couldn't help but let out a little laugh.

"I should have known Plumette had helped. She was much to giggly when I discovered the dress laid out on my bed," Belle laughed as well.

"Oh, and you must call me Adam," he said, smiling with a hint of giddiness. "Just Adam."

Belle's mouth opened ever so slightly in shock, as if he had just scandalized her. But after a moment she said, "Alright… Adam."

The cab ride continued through the busy streets of London towards St. Paul's Cathedral, and Belle couldn't help but gasp giddily every time they passed one historical landmark after another.

"I still can't believe it," Belle breathed as the Parliament buildings rolled in and out of sight. "It's better than anything I ever dreamed!"

"One day I must take you around to all my favourite places," Adam replied. Perhaps the offer was too presumptuous of him – but it felt so natural to say. He wanted nothing more than to take Belle for a walk and a picnic in Hyde Park, to the libraries of Cambridge and Oxford, then to dinner at the Ritz, and finally an evening stroll along the Thames.

"Now  _that_ would be a true scandal," Belle said, smiling.

"No larger scandal than an heir to an earldom taking a housemaid to the wedding of a son of a Viscount and a daughter of a Duke," Adam replied.

"Now you're just making me nervous all over again."

"You're going to be fine," Adam reassured her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Everyone will fall in love with you."  _Like I have._

The cab soon turned onto the street leading to the Cathedral, which was lined with cars stopping and chauffeurs letting guests out to enter.

Belle didn't seem to notice the number of guests mingling about, but only the white stone façade and dome of St. Paul's, practically breathless in awe.

"You know I must go pick up Ned from his home now," Adam said as the cab pulled up to the front of the cathedral.

"I know," Belle said nervously.

"I hate to leave you, even for only a little while. I'll try to rush Ned out the door as fast as possible."

Belle smiled gratefully. "Please don't rush things on my account."

"I don't know if I can help it," Adam laughed lightly, exiting his side of the motor car and opening Belle's door. He helped her out of the cab, savouring the feeling of her hand in his. "You'll be perfect," he whispered as they lingered for a moment longer.

Belle let go of his hand, thanked him, and then walked up the steps in the cathedral. More than once, she glanced back at Adam has he got back into the cab and headed for Belgrave Square.

A little over fifteen minutes later, Adam was once again back in a motor car, though not the cab he had taken to Ned's townhome in Belgrave Square. This time, he was in a sleek black Rolls Royce owned by Viscount Uxbridge – one of the many Rolls owned by Ned's father.

The Viscount and Viscountess Uxbridge had already left for the cathedral, swiftly followed by the Dowager Viscountess Uxbridge.

"Marrying the daughter of a duke… you're finally moving up in the world, Ned," Adam commented with a laugh as the motor weaved slowly through the London traffic towards the cathedral.

"Much to the pleasure of my parents."

Adam couldn't help but have a sprig of jealousy for his friend – he was not only marrying for love, but also marrying a woman of noble birth and considerable standing who was welcomed into his family with grace. He doubted Belle would receive the same treatment if he were to marry her. But she was just as noble in his eyes, and he loved every inch of her.

"I'm sure they were afraid I would remain a bachelor for the rest of my days," Ned continued, "if Caroline hadn't come along."

"And I must know," Adam said. "If I hadn't shown up, what would you have done?"

Ned laughed. "I suppose my brother would have taken up the mantel."

"So, you  _did_ have a backup plan." Adam smirked.

"Well, of course. One doesn't become a friend of the Honourable Adam Savoy and  _not_ have a backup plan."

Once they finally arrived at St. Paul's, the groom and best man strode through the church doors, handing their top hats and gloves to the ushers. Adam immediately tried to find Belle in the crowd.  _There she was,_ sitting on the groom's side in a pew close to the front. She was talking with another young lady, whom Adam recognized as Ned's younger sister, Victoria. She seemed to be fitting in just fine on her own, she didn't even need any help.

"Now would that be your mysterious guest chatting up my sister?" Ned whispered as they walked down the aisle towards the sprawling altar.

"Yes, it would be." Adam smiled with pride.

"You're a lucky man, Adam."

Adam didn't know if he would call it  _luck._  He cast a glance at Belle, who caught his eye and offered him a warm smile.

Suddenly, the congregation grew very quiet at the sight of two young guests walking down the aisle. The silence was soon broken when the choir started singing "God Save the King". One of the two, a man, was dressed in a formal navy blue military uniform, adorned with shining medals, a blue sash, and masses of gold braid. The other, a woman, was wearing a pale pink satin day dress with intricate silver embroidery that shined beneath the light from the cathedral's enormous windows. Her matching hat was decorated with ostrich feathers and small diamonds.

As guests stood and bowed and curtsied at the passing pair, Adam realized who he was staring at. "It seems you omitted to mention that the Prince of Wales and Princess Mary would be attending," he whispered from his place behind Ned.

"The King and Queen are old friends of Caroline's family. Of course, the Duchess invited them, but it seems their children are to represent them today."

"Well, whenever you're invited to royal cricket matches, you must remember to bring me along."

"I shall try my best," Ned laughed. "But I can make no promises. Though, I'm sure the Duchess is already planning which of our children will marry their children."

The Prince of Wales and Princess Mary took their seats at the front of the congregation on the bride's side, and Adam stole another quick glance at Belle. She must be either utterly thrilled or utterly intimidated, perhaps a bit of both.

They caught each other's eyes, and this time it was Adam's turn to offer her a reassuring smile.  _It's going to be fine,_ he mouthed.  _You're perfect,_ he added, but Belle was already standing and turning towards the bride now striding down the aisle.

_So, this was Lady Caroline Weston._ Adam could swear he heard a few quiet gasps as the congregation caught a glance at the bride's opulent wedding gown. It was an ivory satin dress with a full skirt, long train, with intricate lace detailing. Her tulle veil was held in place by a wreath of orange blossoms which seemed to cover most of the top of head.

Ned was still facing the alter, but as Adam glanced at the bride, he smiled. "She's beautiful," Adam whispered to the groom.

Ned didn't say anything again, but only smiled.

Adam glanced at the bride once more, and this time he couldn't help but imagine Belle walking down a church aisle towards him, dressed in a white wedding gown. He wanted the vision to come true terribly – and it was then he realized how much he wanted to marry Belle.

* * *

Though the ceremony was long – to Belle it seemed as if it had passed in a blur. There was simply so much to take in – from the splendor of St. Paul's Cathedral, to the fact that Their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and Princess Mary were sitting almost across from her.

Just being at such an event brought an incomprehensible amount of joy to her, though she would not forsake her libraries of course.

When the newlywed couple started to make their way back up the aisle, Adam strode towards her, and offered her his arm. At first, Belle shot him a rather confused look.

"We're supposed to follow them," Mr. Adam whispered in a laugh.

Belle stood slowly and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, smiling from ear to ear.

"I told you, you had nothing to worry about," he said with a grin as they followed the bride and groom up the aisle.

"The sheer sight of everyone still makes me nervous," Belle whispered, gazing around at the guests and smoothing down her borrowed gown. "I mean, the Prince of Wales and Princess Mary were practically beside me."

"Did you speak to them?" Mr. Adam grinned playfully.

"Surely not! I would make a fool of myself."

"You would  _not._ "

Belle glanced back at those walking back up the aisle behind them. Directly following Belle and Mr. Adam were the maid-of-honour, Lady Caroline's sister, and Mr. Edmund brother, and they were followed by the bride's parents and then the groom's parents. And then, just behind them were the Prince of Wales and Princess Mary, quietly whispering amongst themselves in between nodding politely at the other guests still in the cathedral's pews.

"There's a wedding luncheon to follow, correct?" Belle asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, at Warwick Place in Mayfair."

"Do you think Their Royal Highnesses will attend?" Nervousness laced the question.

"I'm not sure… The Prince of Wales is known to love a good party, but of course they came representing the King and Queen and may just want to bugger off as soon as possible." The two shared a quiet laugh.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Pictures, everyone!" A photographer exclaimed as they exited the church into the bright sunlight. Mr. Adam ushered Belle out of the way to give the bride and groom space for their photographs. First, a few of the newlywed couple, and then family members were gradually added.

It all seemed to pass in a whirlwind, but Belle remembered being in a few of the photographs, though she couldn't help but think she didn't belong the whole time. Still, it was utterly surreal, being involved. At one point, she was sure Lady Caroline's mother had spoken to her, or perhaps in was Mr. Edmund's mother?

The front of the church was filling up with guests – some mingling about, talking to the families of the newlywed couple, other hopping into their motor cars to be driven off elsewhere before the luncheon. Suddenly, Belle felt she needed air, needed a break from the heavy winds of pomp and glamour. Her hand was in the crook of Mr. Adam's arm and she nudged it gently.

"Mr.–" She stopped herself, looking down her feet and blushing. " _Adam,_ may we go for a walk? I think I need some air."

"Of course, of course." He leaned over to the groom. "Ned, Belle and I are just going to go for a walk. We should be back in time for the luncheon."

Mr. Edmund, who was completely swept up in euphoria, only nodded at his best man.

Together, Mr. Adam and Belle left the flurry of guests and walked towards the Thames. The air was warm, though not humid, with a slight breeze coming off the river. Steamships and tugboats slowly made their way along the long expanse of water, letting out the occasional foghorn blasts as they passed each other. Their walk down to the river was mostly in silence – Belle was too busy taking in the sights of the magnificent city that surrounded her.

When they reached the Thames, they found a bench and took a seat, looking out into the river and the city beyond.

"I can't begin to thank you enough for today," Belle said, breaking the long silence.

"The day's not over yet," Mr. Adam commented with a grin. "We still have a luncheon to attend."

"And then it'll be back to cleaning Savoy House. I only wish I were able to visit the museums and galleries… Buckingham Palace, Oxford, and Cambridge. There's so much left to discover and I've only seen small glimpse."

Mr. Adam laughed. "We shall have to return one day – when we can truly see the sights in all their glory."

Belle blushed. "Oh, but how will we do that? When will we ever get a chance to come here again like this?" She looked into his eyes and felt that her own her inexplicably tearing up. One beautiful day of freedom – a glimpse of what her future could hold, if she ever saved up enough money.

"We could come here again… we could travel wherever we wanted!" Adam paused and looked down at his shoes. "If…  _if you were to marry me_ ," he added, a whisper so quiet she almost couldn't hear it.

_Had she misheard him? Marry?_

"Marry you?" Belle asked incredulously.

"Yes… Belle, I want to marry you. When I watched Lady Caroline walk down the aisle of the cathedral, all I longed was to see you walk towards me in a wedding dress."

Belle was speechless, she couldn't form any words in response.

"I know now more than ever that I want to marry you," Mr. Adam continued, insistent. "I love you, Belle… I love you." His eyes were shiny with tears, his lips inching towards hers.

"I…" Belle hesitated, unsure of what she was about to say. "I think…" she hesitated once more, but soon realized she couldn't hide her feelings any longer. "I think I love you as well… Adam."

Their lips inched even closer, and before she knew it, Belle was wrapped in Adam's kiss. Her eyes closed, she only felt his lips against hers, not gasping for air.

But Belle then pulled away, realising the gravity of the situation. She blushed deeply, looking down at the pavement.

"What's wrong? Was I too forward?"

"No… It's just… It's just impossible."

"What are you talking about?" Mr. Adam's voice sounded so damaged and hurt, she almost couldn't bear it.

"I'm talking about  _marriage!_  We've been through this already – there isn't a single chance in heaven that we would be able to marry, that I would be welcomed into your family with open arms. We're not living in a fairy tale, Adam! I can't –" Tears were now falling from her cheeks, and Mr. Adam pulled her into a tight embrace. His hand was against the back of her head, and the other against her back.

"I don't give a damn about what my father thinks. We'll go back to Theron, and I'll fight for you. I swear it, I will." He cupped her cheeks in his hands. "I won't have anyone else, Belle. I won't marry anyone else. It's  _you_ , and it will always be you."

"But what about the estate, you family?"

"We have options… we won't be out on the streets." Despite himself, he let out a small laugh. "Besides, my father can't keep me away from Theron forever, or at least I won't allow him to."

"Are you absolutely serious?" Belle asked, still a little dumbfounded by the whole situation.

"I am," he smiled. "I really, really am." He paused. "That is…" Mr. Adam stood from the bench and the got on one knee on the pavement. His hands gripped hers comfortingly. Tears were once again threatening to fall from Belle's eyes.

"That is… if you'll have me, Belle. Because I know I won't have anyone else."

"Adam, I… Yes, yes, of course I'll have you," she practically gasped with joy. And this time, she had no doubts.

Adam let out a breath of delight, and the two stood and were once again wrapped in each other's embrace.

* * *

Belle and Adam returned to Savoy House long before the rest of the staff had gotten back from their beach adventure.

They'd stayed in the library of the townhome for hours, simply talking. Adam had even gone down to the house's wine cellar and retrieved a bottle of champagne, though Belle wasn't sure if could have anymore after the wedding luncheon. Even so, she had one glass, and after Adam took both used glasses and the bottle to his room to erase any suspicion of them.

During their time in the library, they had decided that they would wait for Belle to get another job before marrying – it sounded like such a strange thing to talk about. Belle was waiting to receive notice of whether she had gotten a job as a secretary for Mr. Wells. But after a few months, they would be married, perhaps having to live in a cottage or flat or with Adam's cousin Elizabeth until everything subsided. Adam didn't know how his father would react upon hearing the news, but he knew it would never be a positive reaction. He wanted to delay telling his father as long as possible, so he wouldn't have any reason to stop the wedding.

Belle was unsure if she wanted to tell  _anybody,_ when Plumette, who knew Mr. Adam was taking her to Lady Caroline and Mr. Edmund's wedding. But when Plumette asked her how everything had gone later that evening, it all seemed to come pouring out.

"And then he asked me to marry him," Belle finished, trying to keep her voice even.

Plumette whipped around from the mirror, wide eyed and completely shocked. "He  _what?_ "

"He asked me to marry him," Belle repeated.

"And what did you say?" Plumette sat on the bed beside her.

"I said yes," she smiled widely. "But you must tell no one, absolutely no one. Adam…  _Mr._ Adam doesn't want any of his family to know."

"Yes, of course! Oh, but when are you going to marry?"

Belle laughed at her eager friend. "A few months from now. We want to wait until I get a new job, hopefully with Mr. Wells."

"Of course, of course," Plumette said, then gazed at her friend and wrapped her in a warm hug. "You can't understand how terribly happy I am for you. I can't think of no one better who should be the Countess of Villeneuve."

And that's when it dawned on her – in the day's whirlwind of emotions, Belle never once realized that by agreeing to marry Adam, she might one day indeed become the Countess of Villeneuve.

* * *

Belle and the rest of the staff had left Savoy House back to Kent a day earlier than Adam who had spent the night at his club.

He tried to get some sleep on the train ride back to Kent the next morning. Sleep had come with difficulty the previous night – he was anxious to see Belle again, anxious about the marriage he'd proposed, anxious about his father potentially finding out, anxious about everything.

Theron's chauffeur, Booth, was there to meet him at the Kent station, his luggage already packed in the back of the motor. His heart was beating rapidly through the whole motor ride back to the sprawling estate and he imagined his staff lined up on the front grounds, there to meet him. He imagined himself rushing towards Belle and picking her up in his arms… and kissing her.  _God, he wanted to kiss her._ The day before had been pure bliss, finally making his intentions clear and Belle agreeing to them.

_Agreeing to marry him._

He could hardly wait the months until they could make it official, but he respected Belle's wishes to take on a different job first. For propriety's sake. Although, there was nothing proper about their relationship – a gentleman and a maid, it was truly something out of a novel.

Finally, the motor rounded the corner and Theron came into view. As they drove down the long gravel driveway, Adam craned his neck to view the staff lined up by the front doors.

But something was different.

In front of the doors stood a group of people whom he had never seen before.

Adam's heart raced faster, and he hardly waited for the motor to stop and for Booth to open his door before bounded out into the drive. But when he did, he immediately regretted it.

Standing before him were a middle-aged man and woman, another woman who looked to be only a little younger than himself, and a man he recognized all to entirely.

_His father._


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> Again, thanks so much for being patient with this story! I hope you guys enjoy. Thanks for all the lovely comments, kudos, and support :)

_Kent_

_June 1913_

* * *

It was an eternity before Adam moved again, breathed again.

It felt as if his heart had stopped, like his body was trying to run in a pot filled with honey.

_How…_

Adam couldn't even think to answer the thousands of questions forming in his mind. He would have to save that for later. Before acknowledging his father and guests before him, he gazed around the drive for Belle. She was there in line with the rest of the staff, her hands clutched tightly in front of her white apron. She offered an encouraging smile.

He smiled back, regaining a little of his confidence. He couldn't put it off any longer.

"Father," he said, clearing his throat in an attempt to quell any remaining hints of shock and misery in his voice. "I didn't know you'd be home so soon. Cogsworth said you'd be at least another month."

"Well, you know me," the Earl of Villeneuve smiled thinly. "I'm always on the move." He managed to make it sound threatening.

Adam shook his father's hand stiffly, and then both turned to the Earl's guests.

"May I introduce the Marquess and Marchioness of Finley," his father said, stretching out his arm towards them. "And their lovely daughter, Lady Susannah Tolbrooke."

Adam took the Marchioness of Finley's hand and politely gave a small bow over it and shook the Marquess's hand. Lord Finley's grip was even firmer than his father's. Then he gazed upon Lady Susannah.

By all accounts, she was beautiful – with her blond hair pinned back under an elegant cloche hat, and her green eyes shining in the sun. But Adam still stopped himself from gazing over at Belle. He couldn't bear being introduced to another woman now that he intended to marry Belle.

_Oh, how he wanted to kiss her._

"And how did you all come to know each other?" Adam continued the conversation politely as they moved from the drive into the main foyer of the house.

"We met on a grouse hunt up in Scotland, set up by a mutual friend," the Marchioness said with a bright smile.

"Yes, and the Marquess and I attended Eton together, it turns out," his father added.

_His father's tales of school – another reason to avoid tonight's dinner._

"There's tea in the library," the Earl continued.

"Father, may I have a word?" Adam asked sternly.

"What on earth do you mean?"

"I want to talk to you,  _privately._ "

The Earl of Villeneuve let out a huff of exasperation. "Oh yes, alright."

Father and son excused themselves and stepped into one of the smaller drawing rooms and Adam shut the door. He hopped the conversation wouldn't amount into a shouting match – the sound would surely carry through the walls.

"Father, what the  _hell_ are you doing?" Adam said through his teeth.

"What does it look like? You've obviously shown your disinterest in finding a suitable wife, so it appears I must do it for you.  _Like so many things in life._ "

"You said you'd give me a year, and it hasn't been a year!"

His father signed deeply. "I am tired of all this nonsense and I will  _not_ wait for you to bring this estate and this title to ruin. Lady Susannah is a perfectly nice woman with generous prospects–"

"I'm sure she's lovely," Adam interrupted, not wanting to hear his father drawl on about her. "But I am  _not_ interested."

The Earl looked like he'd been offended on the deepest level. "I do not  _care_ if you're not interested, boy. You  _will_ do as I command, or I swear–"

The door opened suddenly, and Mrs. Potts entered.

" _What?"_ The Earl practically shouted at the housekeeper.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Your Lordship, I though the room was unoccupied," she said. "I can come back later–"

"No need, Mrs. Potts," Adam said, still glaring at his father. "I was just leaving." Quickly, he turned on his heel and left the room towards the library. As he passed Mrs. Potts, he offered her a look of thankfulness and mouthed  _thank you._

Perhaps her entering the drawing room right at that moment had been entirely a coincidence, but the housekeeper was known to protect Adam from his father's wrath on more than one occasion.

And now, thankfully, she just did it again.

* * *

Dinner was a dull affair, and unfortunately for Adam, not one in which he could escape. His father had made sure of that.

Lord Villeneuve and Lord Finley drawled on about their time at Eaton as expected – everything from the horrible professors to the polo matches. Lady Finley and Lady Susannah were making polite conversation about the grouse hunt back up in Scotland, while Adam was politely listening and picking at his food. He wasn't hungry, all he could think about was Belle.  _How was she? What was she thinking?_

He wanted to leave the brightly-lit dining room and rush down to the servants' hall and tell Belle everything. But of course, that was impossible. Instead, he had written a note just before getting changed, which hung heavy in the pocket of his trousers. As Lumiere came around to serve the roasted vegetables, Adam quietly and carefully slipped the note from his pocket and into the pocket of the footman's slacks. Lumiere gave him a confused look, but Adam only shook his head.

"Give it to Belle," he whispered to the footman as he served himself from the tray.

"What was that?"

Adam's head shot up towards his father, who had halted his conversation to ask the question. Again, Adam just shook his head. "Nothing, nothing," he replied, forcing himself to eat the food in front of him.

"I was just suggesting to Lady Finley that you would take Lady Susannah to view the churches," his father was speaking to him now. His smile was laced with something more, something threatening. "On the train from Scotland she mentioned having an interest in architecture," he continued.

Adam smiled stiffly at his father and Lady Susannah. "How lovely. And what else might you be interested in?"

The woman across from him smiled brightly, setting down her silver fork on the table cloth. "Riding and hunting, mainly," she told him, laughing a little. Her laugh remined him of the way Belle laughed when they discussed the novels they were reading. Adam grabbed the table cloth to stop himself from getting up right them and there.

"And painting," Lady Susannah added.

"Our Suzy is quite the talented artist," Lord Finley smiled warmly.

"Papa," his daughter blushed and took a bite of the vegetables.

"It's true," her father insisted.

"I do water colours," she said after a moment. "Before we leave I do hope to do a few of the grounds and the estate. They're incredibly beautiful."

"Of course, of course," Lord Villeneuve said. "I want you to feel at home."

Adam cast a knowing look at his father. Lady Susannah may not know it, but Adam knew he meant those words literally.

* * *

"This is for you," Lumiere told Belle, handing her a folded piece of parchment as Mrs. Oliver and the kitchen maids set dessert on his tray.

Belle glanced the parchment over. The only word written on the top was  _Belle,_ in a hand she knew very well. Still, she couldn't help but be confused at the situation.

"What?" she asked before Lumiere went up to the dining room.

"Mr. Adam slipped into my pocket during the dinner service," Lumiere whispered. "He told me to give it to you, that's all he said."

Belle nodded and raced up the stairs to her room. Lumiere and the other footmen were only serving dessert; there was more than enough time until the servants' dinner. Once she reached her room, she closed the door and lit the oil lamp on the chest of drawers. She hesitated before unfolding the parchment, almost afraid of what it would contain. Already, her mind was racing wildly with thoughts.

_Would Mr. Adam still tell His Lordship about their intentions to marry?_

_Would that even be possible with the Finleys here?_

_Would everything that happened in London be forgotten?_

Heart pounding, Belle unfolded the parchment and scanned its contents.

_Bell –_

_I never expected my father to push marriage on me this quickly, but I know that's why he has brought the Finleys to Theron. Even though he has not said he wishes for Lady Susannah and I to be married outright, I know that is what he wants, and I know he will not leave until an engagement is announced._

_I have not had the opportunity to confront my father about our intentions, but I hope to do so as soon as the moment arises. I am so sorry for not doing so earlier. I have no intentions of marrying Lady Susannah, and both my father and the Finleys must understand this._

_Before I make my intentions clear, we must not do anything to arouse any suspicion of our relationship. I fear you will bear the brunt of the consequences if we were found out, and I could not live with myself if that were the case._

_I love you._

_– Adam_

Belle let out a long breath as she reread the note. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away as she pulled out a piece of parchment and a fountain pen from her bedside table. She had to get a note to Mr. Adam, and soon before the servants' dinner. Hopefully Lumiere wouldn't mind being the messenger once more.

_Adam –_

_I can't imagine what you must be feeling, but you have no need to apologize. I realize this is a delicate situation (to say the least), and you must take caution. And I agree that we must keep our relationship hidden until the right moment. I should hopefully hear back from Mr. Wells in the coming days about the secretary job, and things may ease._

_Please, don't do anything foolish that may jeopardize your relationship with your family. You may be worried about me, but I worry about you as well._

_It will always be you._

_– Belle_

Belle read the note over, finally satisfied. She folded it and wrote Mr. Adam's name across the top and then slipped it into the pocket of her dress. Thankfully as she rejoined the servants in the dining hall, Lumiere was just about to go up to serve in the drawing room. She caught him just before he ascended the staircase.

"Please give this to Mr. Adam," she asked the footman, handing him the note. "I'm sorry you must play the messenger, but–"

"It's alright," Lumiere said with a smile as he slipped the note into the pocket of his livery, "You know I'm one for intrigue."

Belle laughed softly and watched as he ascended the stairs and disappeared out into the front parlour. She only hoped that the intrigue went unnoticed by any of the other upstairs guests.

* * *

"Mr. Savoy, are you sure you're alright?" Lady Susannah's voice snapped him from his trance, and Adam realized he had been staring at the same alter for God knows how long.

In truth, Adam didn't know at all if he was alright. All he could think about was the note he'd received last night from Lumiere in the drawing room. He had excused himself early, claiming he was tired from the day's travel and shut himself up in his room to read the note. It felt just like when they had first met – exchanging secretive notes between them. It was almost thrilling, though he wished they could speak freely, without family or class divisions getting in the way.

"You know, I'm feeling rather light-headed," he lied, wanting to get back to the house. Perhaps he could find a way to see Belle, or to finally tell his father everything. "I'm sorry to have to cut our outing short but I feel I must return to Theron."

"Of course," Lady Susannah replied, hooking her hand in the crook of his arm. The action was quite forward of her, but Adam didn't protest.

"Adam? Adam!" A familiar voice shouted from somewhere behind him. He turned to see a motor car pulling to a stop beside them on the road. He resisted the urge to groan. Out of everything that could make his situation all the more terrible, his aunt Lady Brankford and Cousin Edward were beckoning the pair into the motor.

Respectfully, Adam and Lady Susannah entered the motor car as it made its way towards the estate.

"Aunt Margaret, Cousin Edward, what brings you to Theron?" Adam asked, trying to keep an air of disgust out of his voice.

"Well, we were making our way back from London and we thought we would stop in for dinner," his aunt smiled. "It's been so long since we've seen each other."

She was so much like Lord Villeneuve. She made the comment sound like a threat, and it probably was. Adam wondered if she knew that he knew about her treacherous plan to try and steal the title and estate from him.

Clearing his throat, he gestured towards Lady Susannah.

"This is Lady Susannah Tolbrooke, the daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Finley. She and her parents are staying at Theron as guests."

"How lovely to meet you," Aunt Margaret said brightly.

"This is my aunt Margaret, the Marchioness of Brankford, and her son, Edward," Adam said with much less enthusiasm. Cousin Edward narrowed his eyes at him.

"What a pleasure," Edward said as he took Lady Susannah's hand and bowed politely over it.

_What the hell were they doing here?_ Adam wanted to ask. It was no coincidence that they showed up just as his father was pushing for marriage. He needed to warn Belle.

Now they needed to be more careful than ever.

* * *

Edward had protested against coming with his mother to Theron – he'd never liked its dreary halls or small rooms, not when he'd grown up in his own practically palatial estate. Still, his mother was insistent. And when his mother was insistent, he knew that he would be fighting a losing battle.

Of course, his mother had made her intentions clear once they embarked on the train towards Kent.

"You want to  _what?"_ Edward had asked in the privacy of their first-class compartment, practically spilling his tea in shock.

"Charles is setting up Adam with some Northern tart and we must put a stop to it," she replied in frustration.

"Why do you care if Cousin Adam marries some nobody from nowhere?"

"Because, Edward," she spoke slowly as if he were a child. "It sabotages your chance of inheriting the estate and earldom."

Edward looked at his mother, perplexed. "Why would  _I_ want to inherit a place like Theron?"

"My brother is right about Adam. If he inherits he will bring the estate to ruin within a year, I tell you."

"And why do you care so much about Cousin Adam?" Edward asked, rolling his eyes.

His mother shot him a dangerous look of fury. "Theron is the estate where I grew up. I will  _not_ see it plundered by Charles's disaster of a son."

"And you want it to remain under your control," he said, understandingly.

"Precisely. Which is why you will  _do as you are told_."

And now on only the second day of their visit, here he was sneaking off from tea into his cousin's bedroom, trying to find anything remotely incriminating. His mother never specified what exactly to look for, just to look for anything that might prevent a marriage between Cousin Adam and Lady Susannah.

Edward practically tore the room apart, searching through the pockets of his cousin's clothing, flipping through the books pilled on the tables (of which there were  _many_ ), and still found nothing that would help their case. He was about to leave when something caught his eye in the bedside table. In the top drawer, under even more books, was an intricately carved wooden box.

After checking to make sure no one was coming down the hall, Edward opened the box and let out a breath of surprise. The box was filledwith notes.  _Love notes,_  he realized as he read them – between Cousin Adam and some girl named Belle.

_Belle…_

Where had he heard that name before?

Then he realized – Belle was one of the housemaids.

Heart pounding, Edward read the note at the very top of the pile.  _We must keep our relationship hidden until the right moment… It will always be you…_

They were carrying on, the two of them… right under Lord Villeneuve's nose. Edward took a handful of the notes and stuffed them into his pockets. After, he carefully placed the box right where it had been in the drawer and then glanced around the room to make sure nothing was out of place. Satisfied, he left his cousin's room and shut the door behind him.

His family and guests were still having tea in a small drawing room when Edward came back downstairs, and he caught his mother's eye and gave her a quick nod. After excusing herself, she joined Edward in an empty drawing room. Without saying a word, Edward smirked as he held up the notes from his pocket. His mother quickly grabbed them from his hands and started to scan their contents.

"Cousin Adam's been carrying on with one of the housemaids, a girl name Belle," Edward said, breaking the silence.

His mother smiled, clearly satisfied with his work. "You did well," she said, not taking her eyes off the notes. "Go join the others. I will take these to Charles myself."

Edward rolled his eyes slightly, not taken in by his mother's intrigues. It wasn't as if he didn't appreciate them, after all, she claimed this particular scheme was for his own benefit. If it were to succeed, Edward would become Earl of Villeneuve, which was more than what he would inherit as the younger son of the Marquess of Brankford. Though, it was clear that his mother intended for him to inherit the estate only so she could control it.

Thankfully, tea didn't last much longer, and Lord Villeneuve encouraged Cousin Adam to take Lady Susannah on ride about the estate grounds. Edward could tell his cousin was only complying to be polite to the guests, and not to mention to keep his father's fury at bay.

Edward had never personally seen his uncle's rages towards Cousin Adam, but he heard enough through servant gossip. At first, he did best to ignore them, thinking they were exaggerations, fabrications. And even now he still didn't truly believe the rumours, but there was something… the way Cousin Adam and his uncle spoke to one another, even in the company of guests… Edward could tell how much his cousin despised Uncle Charles.

The occupants of the drawing room slowly filtered out, Cousin Adam leading Lady Susannah in the direction of the stables, and Lord and Lady Finley ascended the main staircase towards the gallery. Before Uncle Charles could leave, his mother stopped him.

Edward leaned against the entrance of the room, making sure to keep out of sight and listened to their conversation.

"What is it, Margaret?" Uncle Charles asked, somehow sounding bored and concerned at the same time.

"Your son has been having an…  _improper_  relationship with a member of staff," his mother replied, with no remorse, no unsureness. From what Edward could see, peeking past the door jamb, Uncle Charles' expression became very serious.

"What are you talking about?" His uncle asked, astonished. He was careful to not raise his voice. The whole estate didn't need to know, after all. But if his mother got her way, Edward was sure they would. "I can assure you that my son would never–"

His mother interrupted him by holding up the notes Edward had given her. Uncle Charles took them carefully in his hands, as if they would crumble to sand upon his touch. As he read them, he didn't betray any emotion. After he finished, he only asked one question.

"When were these written?" His uncle turned away from the door, looking out the large window onto the grounds of Theron. The Earl of Villeneuve had always been as stoic as the King himself, but Edward wondered if his mother had finally managed to crack his demeanor.

"The notes contain no dates, Charles," she replied, her voice laced with a calm and assured tone. He could just notice the corners of her lips curling upwards. "But one must assume, given the contents, that they were written recently. Besides, why would your son keep these letters if the girl didn't matter to him?"

The two were silent for a long moment, but Edward knew his mother enough to know that she was very pleased with herself.

"Thank you bringing these to my attention," his uncle said, finally, before making his way towards the drawing room's entrance.

Heart pounding, Edward moved away from the door, to feign as if he were just passing through the hall. His uncle must have known he was listening, because as he started to ascend the stairs, his words caught him by surprise.

"Papa always said your mother was the most conniving of us children," the Earl of Villeneuve remarked. Edward turned around, staring curiously as his uncle from the staircase. He was still holding the notes tightly in his hands, staring down at them. For the first time in his life, Edward saw a crack in his uncle's façade. His voice – not loud and commanding, but as if lost in a memory. "Perhaps that is why she outranks us all."

Before Edward could raise his voice, his uncle disappeared into the library.

* * *

Though Adam wanted any excuse to get out of accompanying Lady Susannah on a ride around the estate grounds, Cogsworth telling him his father was waiting for him in the library made Adam regret ever thinking of wanting to leave her. Cogsworth gave him a grave look of understanding as he relayed the news, but of course he had no choice but to oblige.

He gave his apologies to Lady Susannah, and walked off towards the library, his steps heavy with dread.

_What could his father possibly want now?_ Did he want to continue the argument that Mrs. Potts so kindly interrupted? Adam didn't know – he didn't  _want_ to know. But whatever the Earl of Villeneuve wanted, he knew it would not be good.

The notes in his father's hand were the first thing Adam recognized upon entering the library. He recognized the eggshell-coloured stationery and the soft edges of Belle's handwriting.

His heart dropped to the floor.

"Where did you find those?" Adam asked, approaching his father slowly. He held out his hand, as if he could take them from his grip.

"It doesn't matter where I found them," Lord Villeneuve snapped, his eyes rife with fury.

Adam seethed. It bloody well  _did_ matter where he found them – was this father rifling through his personal belongings now? Was he paying a servant to spy on him? It wouldn't be below his father to do so,  _that_ was for sure.

"But now that I am aware of your little…  _tryst_ ," his father continued, setting down the small pile of notes on his bureau. "It can all come to an end."

Adam blinked. "What are you talking about?"

His father let out a short laugh, like he wasn't being serious. "You've had your fun with this maid, but you must come back to the real world."

"Father, this isn't just some  _fun_ I've been having with a member of staff," Adam said, livid. "Belle and I love each other, truly." He took a breath. "We intend to marry."

Lord Villeneuve stared at him with disbelief. "You're not serious?"

"I am. I am serious, Father. Belle is who I want to spend the rest of him life with and you can't change my mind."

"I won't allow it!" Lord Villeneuve shouted. "Too many times I've let you gallivant your way through life spending enough money to nearly ruin us. I see your stay here has not changed you one bit. You think you can take what you with no consequences. You _will_ marry Lady Susannah, and that is the end of it!" he moved to storm out, but Adam stopped him.

"Then Belle and I will run away together. The estate can go to Cousin Edward if your sister gets her way, or that banker in Manchester. I'm sure he will be a  _fine_ earl."

Adam's father crossed his arms and laughed. "You? Run away? How do you intend to support yourself? I certainly won't give you any money, and I will absolutely not let your aunts take you in. You would be reduced to working in the poor house in less than a week."

"I would get a job, and Belle is already planning on taking on a new job. We would do just fine." Adam didn't know if he believed those words, but nevertheless it felt good to say them to his father.

"Oh, does she?" Lord Villeneuve smiled wickedly. "Well, then let me tell you this. If you don't agree to marry Lady Susannah, I will  _personally_ make sure this Belle will never work a respectable job again. Perhaps I shall telephone her new office of employment and speak to them about how she has been stealing from this estate, how she  _seduced_ my son!"

Adam swung his fist at his father, who caught his wrist before it could make an impact on his cheek. " _You bastard_ ," Adam hissed.

"You  _will_ do as I tell you, or it will be Belle who will end up in the poor house."

Adam breathed heavily as his arm went slack in his father's grip. He couldn't – he  _wouldn't_ – forgive himself if Belle was reduced to a pauper. She wanted to travel, to visit libraries all over the word… he could never deprive her of that opportunity. At least she would still have those opportunities, even without him. As much as it pained him, he nodded his head.

Lord Villeneuve released his grip on Adam's wrist and straightened his waistcoat. "Good. I expect to see you at dinner with  _no complaints_."

"Yes, Father," Adam mumbled, his hands curling into fists.

"This is what's best for you, and for our family. Trust me."

Adam didn't say anything as his father left the library, leaving him alone. For the first time since he came back to Theron, the walls of the library seemed as if they would swallow him whole. The notes Belle had written him were still sitting on his father's bureau, and he stared at them until he heard voices outside the room. Adam quickly grabbed the notes and shoved them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and rushed out of the library, not stopping to see whom he passed.

* * *

If it was possible, dinner that evening was an even more awful affair. It wasn't just the Finleys and the Brankfords in attendance, but Adam's father had invited a large number of guests from the nearby estates. How he had managed to do it so quickly was a mystery.

Of course, Lord Villeneuve was going on as if he had not just threatened a member of his own staff with poverty, and not forcing his own son into a marriage he didn't want to be a part of.

As the main course came and went, Adam found he had no appetite for any of it. Not even Mrs. Oliver's cheese soufflé could kindle his hunger.

Every few minutes, his aunt Margaret would cast him a sharp yet snide glance, as if she had orchestrated everything. In fact, it occurred to Adam, she probably had. It was  _she_ who had dug around through his belongings and obtained the notes, just to accelerate need for marriage. But if her goal was to get Cousin Edward to inherit the title and estate, how would it happen now that Adam was quickly being forced into marriage? Perhaps Aunt Margaret had assumed he would run away and abandon estate. At least he could take some satisfaction in knowing  _that_ part of her plan hadn't succeeded.

Once Cogsworth and the footmen were serving dessert, Lord Villeneuve stood, holding his small glass of dark dessert wine. Adam's heart filled with dread.

"I'd like to make a happy announcement," he said with a wide smile. The dinner table hushed, and the footmen stopped serving. It was too quiet. "My son, Adam, and Lady Susannah Tolbrooke intend to marry."

_No… no… It was too soon… it was happening too fast._ Adam gazed over in shock to Susannah, who was sitting across from him.  _Did she know what was happening? Did she agree to his?_ But Susannah only gave Adam and warm and excited smile.

"Let us drink their health." The rest of the guests stood from their seats and raised their glasses. "To Adam and Susannah," his father said.

"To Adam and Susannah," the guests repeated.

* * *

Lumiere got away from the dining room as fast as he could. The women would go through any minute, and Cogsworth would be livid if he wasn't there in time to serve the drinks, but he had to process what had just happened.

Mr. Adam was engaged.  _Engaged._ And by the look of shock on Mr. Adam's face when his Lordship had announced it, he was hearing the news for the first time as well. He couldn't imagine what he must be feeling.

Finally, the footman got to the servants' hall, where Plumette has mending one of her dresses Belle was there as well, reading a novel as always.

"You won't  _believe_ what happened up there," Lumiere said, setting the dessert tray down on the table.

"What?" It was Belle whose attention he caught first, but his wife was not far behind as she set down her mending.

"Mr. Adam is  _engaged_."

" _What?!_ " Belle practically cried.

Lumiere nodded. "His Lordship just announced it –" Before he could finish his sentence, Belle was already out of her seat, book in hand, and rushed down the corridor towards the staircase.

"Belle! Belle!" Plumette called after her, but she was already gone.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers, 
> 
> Voilà! A new chapter for you all! There are a few Downton references in this one, I'm happy to say. Thank you all for being patient as ever with this story, and thank for your lovely comments! I want to reply to as many of them as possible. Thank you as well for the kudos. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Kent_

_June 1913_

* * *

It was Plumette who knocked on Belle's door the next morning, waking her up from a restless sleep.

"Tell Mrs. Potts I've come down with a cold," Belle mumbled into her pillow as Plumette entered the room.

Belle was still reeling from the events of the previous night, with too many questions in her brain. But most of all, all she wanted to know was  _what happened?_ What had happened the day before to make Adam give up on her? She knew it must be more complicated than she was making it out to be, Adam would never go through with an arranged marriage lightly. Still, Belle wanted to be alone. She wanted to process everything. She couldn't stay at the estate for much longer… she'd have to work out a notice. At least there was comfort in the fact that Mr. Wells had accepted her for the secretary job. At least she wouldn't have to start over.

Plumette sat on the side of the bed in a hurry. "No, Belle, you don't understand!"

Belle blinked and started to sit up. "I don't understand that Adam is now engaged?" It almost hurt to say the words.

The housemaid shook her head. "No, no… you left before Lumiere could explain everything. He was there, in the dining room when it all happened. Mr. Adam looked as shocked as anything. He clearly didn't know what was happening."

Belle's eyes widened. "You said His Lordship announced it… so it must have been out of Adam's control."

Plumette nodded, taking hold of Belle's hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "This wasn't Mr. Adam's choice. He would never agree to it willingly, you know that."

"I need to speak with him," Belle said, a sudden new feeling of assurance running through her. Plumette was right, after all. This was all Lord Villeneuve's doing. She just didn't think it would happen so quickly.

Only two hours later, Belle was in the library trying to remain focused on her chores. But her heart leapt to her throat every time the sound of footsteps passed the library's door. She hoped it would be Adam who entered, but a sick feeling welled in her stomach at the thought of Lord Villeneuve, his sister, or his nephew entering the room.

Still, despite everything, Belle couldn't help but smile at all the memories she and Adam had shared in this space. Discussing the works of Charles Dickens and Shakespeare, recommending their favourite novels, and more than that – just being able to talk to one another without the divisions of class to get in the way. In here, they weren't Mr. Adam the Earl's son and Belle the housemaid. They could be just Adam and Belle. It was the only place she could truly feel like herself away from her father's little cottage.

She was going to miss the library of Theron, when she left for Canterbury. She was going to miss the friends she had made. Plumette's kindness, Lumiere's humour, Jasper's gossip, Percy playing the piano… she wondered if friends would come as easily in Canterbury as they had in Theron.

"I was hoping I'd find you in here." A voice jolted her from her thoughts, making her jump. Belle turned from the bookcases, relieved to see Adam standing in the doorway. It took all her strength not to run and embrace him. Instead, Belle nodded and smiled softly.

"I need to…" she turned back to the bookcases. "I need to know what happened last night. During dinner."

Adam sighed, and approached her slowly until he was standing beside her. He was so close Belle could kiss him.

"I know," he said solemnly. "I owe you an explanation." He gazed towards the door, making sure no one was outside. "Please believe that it wasn't my choice. I would have never agreed… I thought my father was going to give me more time… He threatened you, Belle."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What…"

"My father threatened to make sure that you would never be able to work a respectable job again. He said he would accuse you of theft, of  _seducing_ me." He shook his head. "Belle, I would never be able to live with myself if you were reduced to those circumstanced because of my actions."

"Adam, you –"

"And please don't say I shouldn't have given in to my father for you, because to me your welfare is more important than mine."

"But, you can't live with such unhappiness," Belle argued, holding on to his hands. She felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Perhaps… perhaps I deserve to be unhappy, after all the things I've done."

"No Adam, no –"

"Please, Belle, this is what I have chosen. I know it's not what we hoped, but at least I'll take comfort in the fact that you may still lead a happy life."

A long moment of silence passed between them, until finally Adam spoke again. "The secretary job…"

"I can start next month," Belle said flatly. She was still trying to take it all in. Clearly, there was no way to change Adam's mind now, not matter how much she wanted to. It was all just happening so fast, faster than she had ever wanted it. "If this is what you truly want…"

"It  _is_ what I truly want," he replied solemnly, squeezing her hands. "I want you to have a joyful life."

"Adam, you deserve happiness as well, no matter what you think."

"Perhaps, but I don't want it at the expense of yours." He leaned over a planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "But know that I will always love you, no matter whom I marry or what my family does."

"And I you." Belle's voice broke with tears.

"Ah, there you are!" A new voice drifted into the library.

Both Adam and Belle turned with a jolt and dropped their hands. Lady Susannah was standing at the entrance, clutching a cloche hat in a tight grip.

"Susannah," Adam cleared his throat, trying to sound happy.

"Your father is giving us a tour of the village, I do hope you'll join us," she said, without a hint of contempt. If she had seen or heard them, she didn't betray it.

"Of course," Adam nodded, also not betraying their conversation.

Susannah swiftly left the room, and Adam turned back to Belle. "I'm sorry…"

Belle shook her head. "I understand."

Adam kissed her again at the corner of her lips. "I love you." He whispered the words so softly, but she clung to them even after he disappeared from the library.

* * *

Adam managed to avoid speaking with his father until they were all gathered in the drawing room before dinner. The tour of the village had been an almost agonizing experience. It had pained him so much to leave Belle in the library, to tell her that he couldn't be the reason to ruin her life, and then to be in the company of Lady Susannah – his  _fiancée_ – and pretend nothing wrong, pretend he hadn't just driven away the love of his life.

Susannah  _blessedly_ didn't speak about what she had or had not seen in the library, and Adam didn't ask about it. Her company was pleasant enough, but he still couldn't help but feeling that it should have been Belle at his side, touring the village she would one day reside over.

"You're taking the engagement in stride." Lord Villeneuve's voice jolted him from his thoughts. He was speaking quiet enough, so only Adam could hear him. Lady Susannah was across the room chatting with her mother and Cousin Edward, while his aunt and the Marquess were talking amongst themselves. However, his aunt spared the occasional intrigued glance over in their direction.

Adam turned to his father and narrowed his eyes. "Don't pretend this wasn't some plan you've been devising for weeks."

"Of course not. But now you're engaged to marry a lovely,  _wealthy_ woman and we can put all this unpleasantness behind us."

"Belle isn't just some  _unpleasantness,_ Father." Adam's fists clenched in anger. He could strike his father right there and then, if it weren't for all the guests in the room.  _That_ would certainly make it into the gossip papers.

"Whatever she was, it is over now, and you can both move on with your lives."

Before Adam could respond, Susannah approached them with a wide smile across her face. "My mother and I were just discussing possible dates for the wedding. Perhaps in the fall or winter."

_Fall or winter._ Either option was too close for him. He couldn't even imagine being married in only a few months.

"Fall and winter weddings in the country are such muggy affairs," Adam tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. "Spring weddings when all the flowers are in bloom are much more beautiful." He could imagine his own wedding, with flower garlands lining the estate's bannisters, colourful banners strung up from rooftop to rooftop in the village, bottles of the finest champagne and crystal flutes covering a large oak table in the foyer. He could imagine Belle in a fine white gown, walking down the isle of the church towards him.

Adam shook his head. Dreaming up these fantasies would only hurt him more. "Besides," he continued, glancing at his father with the slightest of smirks. "There's no rush for the wedding. I would rather have everything planned perfectly than rush into a ceremony. I'm sure the Archbishop of Canterbury would need at least five months' notice anyway, knowing him." He laughed lightly.

Susannah nodded. "Of course, a spring wedding sounds lovely. It will give me more time to get to know the village and the county."

Lord Villeneuve was about to interject into the conversation when Cogsworth entered the room. "Dinner is served, my lord," he said in his booming voice with a slight bow of his head.

Adam had never more grateful for dinner in a long time. He was able to eat in peace for most of the service, only giving short answers to any questions asked. His father did most of the talking about the wedding, though he was grateful he was able to have it during the spring – almost a year away. Adam suspected his father wouldn't let him put it off any longer than that.

Later that evening, after Adam had excused himself for the night, his father ambushed him on the stairs.

"What is it, Father?" Adam asked, sounding utterly uninterested.

"I think it would do you some good to rejoin London society, get away from the country," his father said, his tone unpleasant.

"What, no longer afraid that I'll drive the family into ruin now that I have a  _wealthy_ fiancée?"

Lord Villeneuve glared at him. "You've been away for so long, it would be good for you and Susannah to get your names back out there."

Adam scoffed. "I'm sorry, Father, but I don't want to show off Susannah like a new motor car to your friends in London. Should we marry, Susannah and I will be residing over the county's tenants, its people, and its affairs, so Theron is where we shall stay." He gave his father a slight nod. "Good night, Father."

Without another word, Adam raced up the stairs and into the darkened hallways beyond.

* * *

The next two weeks passed all too quickly for Belle. She had handed in her notice the evening after she and Adam had talked in the library to a shocked but understanding Mrs. Potts, as hard as it was for her to do so.

"It's been a pleasure, Belle. Theron is always open to you if you ever want to visit," the housekeeper had told her, folding back up the notice.

Belle smiled warmly. "Thank you so much for everything."

"Belle," Mrs. Potts said as she turned to leave some time later, "I'm sorry at how things turned out with Mr. Adam."

Belle nodded. "It wasn't a fairytale after all, it seems." She didn't know if she was saying it to herself or to Mrs. Potts.

"Life rarely is, I'm sorry to say."

Now she was in her small room on the top floor of the estate, the room she spent months sharing with Plumette, packing her belongings to take back to her father's cottage, and then on to Canterbury.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Plumette said, gazing around the room wistfully as she sat on the bed.

Belle wished she didn't have to go either, but she couldn't stay. Not when Adam was due to marry soon, not with Lord Villeneuve's threat hanging over her head. At least the activity in the estate had dissipated within the past weeks. Lady Brankford and Mr. Edward had left soon after the engagement was announced – much to the staff's pleasure – and Lord and Lady Finley and their daughter were due to part in the coming days. Who knows how much longer His Lordship would stay at the estate, but Belle had the feeling it would be for the foreseeable future – to make sure Adam didn't run off in the night.

"But I must," Belle finally replied, putting her father's sketches in her luggage. "It's all too much to bear." She looked up at her friend, who wore a solemn expression, and moved beside her on the bed. "But I want to come back and visit you all whenever I can. I don't think the office is open on weekends, so I can try and make time."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Plumette exclaimed, holding her hands. "And you must come for the holidays, of course!"

"I'll try my best."

A beat passed between them. "It will be so different without you, Belle."

"It will be fine, Plumette," she reassured. "Besides, with the… with the wedding coming up I'm sure Cogsworth will want to hire more staff."

"Weddings are such chaotic affairs," Plumette said, wrinkling her nose. "Especially a wedding such as this… but we shouldn't talk about weddings, we should be talking about the glorious life you'll have in Canterbury."

Belle laughed. "It's just a secretary job, it's not  _that_ glamourous."

"Oh, but the new clothes you'll wear, and the latest hair styles…"

"Then I'll be sure to send you a photograph or two," Belle replied, smiling.

"Please do!"

The conversation was interrupted by a light knock at the door and Mrs. Potts entering. "Belle, there's someone asking for you downstairs," she said with the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. "And Plumette, Cogsworth is about to ring the dressing gong, you should be cleaning up the dining room."

"Yes, Mrs. Potts," Plumette chimed and promptly left the room.

Mrs. Potts gestured to her. "Come along, dear, you can't wait all day."

"Who's asking for me?" Belle asked as the descended the stairs into the servants' hall. But Mrs. Potts didn't get time to answer, because sitting at the servants' dining table was Adam.

"Adam – Mr. Adam," Belle said, flustered. She felt heat and flush rise to cheeks, and she tried to cover them with her hands.  _What was he doing down here?_

"I just want a quick word with Belle, if she's not too busy, Mrs. Potts," he said evenly.

The housekeeper nodded. "Of course, sir. You can have my sitting room."

"Thank you," he replied, gesturing for Belle to lead him there. She shot him a quizzical look but walked to Mrs. Potts's sitting room. Neither said anything until the door was shut behind them, and they were alone in the small room.

To her own surprise, Belle spoke first after a long and awkward silence. "Won't Lady Susannah be missing you?"

Adam scoffed lightly. "Don't worry, she out riding." Another moment of silence. "I just wanted to say… I needed to… I needed to see you before you left. I wanted to offer you best wishes, truly."

"Thank you…" Belle didn't know what to say.  _I'll miss you, I love you…_ none of those words mattered anymore.

"I only wish the circumstances were different."

"I know," Belle replied. "But wishing won't do us any good. I am grateful of your friendship… of your love these past months. Thank you for sharing your library with me, and for taking me to London."

Adam took her hands in his and kissed them gently. "I will miss you, so much. And I did mean it that day, I will always love you."

Somewhere above them, the dressing gong rung through the estate.

"I love you too, Adam."

"Please, if you can spare anytime, feel free to visit."

"Mrs. Potts and Plumette told me the same thing," Belle laughed. "I can only hope to be as popular in Canterbury."

"Not  _too_ popular, I hope," he eyed her playfully.

Belle nudged him gently on the shoulder. "Don't you get jealous now."

Suddenly, Adam leaned forward as if to kiss her, but stopped. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't…"

Belle shook her head. "No, it's okay." She closed the gap between them, placing her lips on his, and they were the only two people in the world. Belle felt as if she didn't need air as their kiss deepened, as warmth irradiated from their bodies.

"You should…" Belle said as they kissed, "you should probably be getting dressed… for dinner."

"Let them wait…" Adam whispered.

Belle smiled, wrapping her fingers around Adam's soft hair. She didn't know how long the kiss lasted, and she didn't particularly care. In that moment, nothing else mattered. No wedding, no scheming family members, no class divisions. They were just Adam and Belle.

_Was that a knock?_ Belle thought she heard something beyond the door, but perhaps it from another room. But then she heard it again, and louder this time. Adam must have heard it as well, because his head shot up.

"C-come in," Adam said as they bolted apart.

"Sorry to interrupt," Mrs. Potts started.

Adam shook his head. "No, no problem at all. I uh, I should be going anyway." He turned back to Belle. "Best of luck with everything, and I hope you'll come back to visit soon." He couldn't say it, but his eyes said  _I love you_. She could tell.

Belle nodded. "And good luck to you, Mr. Adam… such good luck."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments, kudos, and support. Enjoy :)

_Canterbury_

_December 1913_

* * *

A fresh layer of snow had covered the bustling streets the night before, making it tiring for Belle to make the walk from the office to her small flat at the end of the day. Thankfully, the walk wasn't too far – only a few blocks, and it did make for a beautiful journey in the fall as the air cooled and the leaves turned from green to orange.

Still, Belle found herself missing the sight of Theron and its grounds covered in snow, of the scent of Mrs. Oliver's cooking, and watching Cogsworth and the footman carry a gigantic tree through the front entrance. Belle and her roommates, Tilly and Cora, had tried to spruce up their small flat for the holidays. Cora purchased a tiny Christmas tree that now sat in the flat's main room, just beside the window and decorated it with homemade tinsel and snowflake ornaments. Cora was such a wonder with those types of things. Tilly had set a menorah on the mantel – a gift given to her by her grandmother, she had said. For Belle's part, she had made pies from the fruit grown at her father's cottage back in Chartham. She was lucky enough to be able to visit occasionally on the weekends by way of a public bus. Every time she went back to the small village, her father asked if she wanted to walk up to the big house for a visit, and every time, Belle declined. It's not that she didn't miss working at Theron, of course, but she just didn't think she could face the possibility of seeing Adam again, or his father, or his fiancée, for that matter. It would remind her of all that could have been – it still reminded her of it.

Belle shook off the thought as she entered the small bookstore at the corner of the road. This was one thing she loved more than the village – a proper bookstore, with new and exciting stories, stories she'd never even heard of before. She had made it her weekly tradition to go to the bookstore every Friday after work, and on the occasion that she had a bit of extra money, she would purchase a new novel.

_I have no doubt you'll have a grand library of your own one day._ The words from Adam's note rung in her ears. It had only been the year before when she'd received it, but it already felt like a million. Only a year before had she been cleaning and dusting Theron, and now she a secretary for a telephone company.

"Belle!" The shopkeeper, Mr. Andrews, chimed from his counter as she entered. "Come to purchase anything today?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Andrews," she said apologetically. "I still have to pick up some vegetables from the store for tonight's dinner."

"Ah, that's okay. Here, let me show you some new arrivals that I think you'd like." He smiled, leading her towards the back of the store. Mr. Andrews always did that, even if she didn't buy anything. He would show her everything he'd get in through the week, and Belle would write down all the books she was interested in on a small note pad. Since moving to Canterbury, she had already filled up over half of those pages and would have to cross one or two books off the list soon.

Belle spent about half an hour at the bookstore, and then after running a few errands, she finally returned to her flat.

Tilly and Cora were already there, starting the evening's dinner. Cora was a school teacher at the children's school not too far from them, and Tilly was a secretary like her. Belle was lucky to have found them, really. With all that was happening at Theron, she'd almost forgotten about where she'd live in the city. Fortunately, Tilly and Cora had placed an ad in the paper, and with the three of them sharing the flat, they were able to afford it.

"A letter came for you, Belle," Tilly said, looking up from the chicken she was cooking on the small stovetop. Belle set the shopping on the kitchen table and looked at the letter beside it. It was from Theron. From Plumette.

"It's from the big house," Belle said.

"Theron?" Cora asked.

"Yes, from a friend I used to work with."

"Well, don't go on staring at it all night," Tilly laughed. Belle smiled and tore open the letter.

_Belle –_

_I'm sorry I haven't written as of late, but I hope you are doing well. Is city live as glamourous as everyone says it is?_

_Everything is as you'd expect it to be at Theron. His Lordship makes frequent trips to London, and I think he's trying to persuade Mr. Adam to join him on his social gatherings, but the latter insists on remaining at the estate. I just think it's because he can't stand to be near His Lordship. I swear, every time he leaves, Mr. Adam comes this close to throwing a party._

_And I have some more thrilling news: Lumiere and I are expecting a child. No one else knows, apart from us and you. I wanted to keep it a secret and announce it at the servants' ball. Please write back and say you'll come. We all miss you so terribly. I miss you terribly._

_Your good friend,_

_Plumette._

Belle took a few breaths, taking in the letter. Plumette was  _pregnant_ … and had invited her to the servants' ball.

_Did she even want to go?_ She thought of seeing Adam again… and of course Lady Susannah would be there, and perhaps his Lordship. But she longed to see her friends in the servants' hall again, and of course she wanted to hear all about Plumette's pregnancy. She just didn't know if she was ready to revisit that part of her life.

It wasn't until the next day when Belle finally found the words to write back to Plumette. She decided that her friends at Theron were more important than any of the difficult times she had there. And besides, she had to accept what had happened in the summer. Right now, there was nothing she could do to change it, and seeing her friends again would do her some good.

In the end, Belle wrote back Plumette saying she'd be delighted to attend the servants' ball, and that she was over the moon to hear about the pregnancy. She could only hope that when the time came, she could push herself towards Theron, unfaltering.

* * *

Even though she had only been with them for less than a year, Adam found himself missing Belle that holiday season. He missed the way she gazed in awe as the tree was set up in the foyer, he missed the way she stole glances at him as he watched from the gallery.

More than that, Adam found himself missing Belle everywhere he looked. But the library – the library is where he missed her most of all. He could barely read in there for an hour before wanting to discuss his novel with Belle, to recommend her another one of his favourites. He had almost decided not to hold a servants' ball that year, because of how much it reminded him of her, but Belle would've wanted him to continue with the tradition even in her absence. And not to mention the staff would stage an uprising if he didn't hold the ball.

"Are you alright, darling?" A voice drifted his way, and hand was on his shoulder. He blinked, snapping from his thoughts, and realized it was Susannah at his side.

Her family was staying at Theron for the holidays, and his aunts and their families were due to arrive Christmas Eve, the day after the servants' ball. Adam was practically repulsed by the thought. It was one thing for his family to spend a few days during the year, but Christmas… Christmas was different, especially after he'd had such a quiet one the previous year – just him and the staff. This year, there would be all the formality and stiffness that came with hosting a society Christmas holiday. And no doubt they would be staying for the New Years, as well. At least Aunt Margaret wouldn't berate him over not having a fiancée, though he was still certain she would try anything to make her son heir to the title and estate. Hopefully Cousin Elizabeth would be to fight his corner, at least.

"Yes, yes, fine," Adam said, finally.

"You just seem distracted."

"It's just all the planning for Christmas coming up, what with servants' ball is tomorrow, of course, then my family coming after that…" it wasn't a complete lie, in Adam's defense.

"Let Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts handle it all," Susannah reasoned. "It  _is_  their job."

"I'm sure they have it worse than me, with all the preparations they must be doing. Mrs. Oliver alone must be throwing a fit downstairs."

"I don't know why you didn't want to come to my family's Christmas party in London, last week. A bit of traveling would take your mind off things."

In truth, Adam couldn't even dream of travelling to London. The last time he'd been, of course, was with Belle for Ned's wedding. He still wanted to do so much in the city with her, things they never got to do at the wedding. And now he didn't know if he'd ever get the chance. To attend parties, walk along the Thames, visit the galleries… he couldn't find joy in any of them without Belle there at his side. He knew he should have accepted the reality of the situation by now, after all these months, but he still couldn't imagine his life without her.

"Neither you nor my father can persuade me to visit London. At least, not at the moment," Adam said. It was the most truthful statement so far.

Susannah squeezed his shoulder comfortingly with one hand and took hold of his hand with the other. "I know, Adam. Perhaps in the new year you and your father could visit us up north at Chareford for the grouse hunt."

Adam's gaze didn't turn from the staff milling about below in the foyer. "Yes, perhaps," was all he could muster.

"I should finish up one of my paintings," Susannah said after a while, when it was clear she was getting nowhere with him. She planted a small kiss on his cheek. "See you at dinner."

Adam muttered a weak "yes" in response.

After Susannah left, he didn't know how long he stayed up in the gallery staring blankly into the foyer below, and before too long he had to be told by his valet that the dressing gong had rung. He wasn't in the mood for one of Mrs. Oliver's large dinners, but of course his father insisted on his presence when Susannah and her parents were staying.

The conversations in the dining room avoided the topic of the wedding, for once (to Adam's great pleasure), and instead focused on what relations were visiting for Christmas, and whether they were staying until after the new year (they were, to Adam's great  _dis_ pleasure). Of course, Susannah brought up the invitation she had extended to travel up to their estate for a grouse hunt, to which Lord Villeneuve eagerly agreed. Adam was able to get through most of the dinner without saying a word, and then excused himself early after the women had gone through to the drawing room.

After escaping to his room, he pulled out the small box from his bedside table that contained all the letters written to him by Belle. Keeping them, of course was not going to help him accept his current situation but still brought him great comfort, so much so that he couldn't bring himself to throw them away. They were a part of his life.

The next morning Adam found himself still covered in the letters when he woke and rushed to get them back in the box before his valet entered to dress him. He was still wearing his clothes from dinner the previous night, but it that was something Chappeau was used to.

Predictably when his valet entered, Adam could see him conceal an eye roll when he saw his attire.

"I thought you said you wanted to avoid your behaviour during your London days, sir," Chappeau said while drawing the curtains. Light poured into the dark room, making Adam squint. A light snowfall was covering the grounds.

Adam didn't respond to his valet's remark, instead changing the subject. "I hope the staff is excited for this evening."

"Yes, sir, very much. Cogsworth even said we could have some of the leftover port from last night."

Adam laughed. "How generous of him." He knew how much his butler loved port.

"It'll be different, though," he commented, picking up a pair of cufflinks from a glass box. "With His Lordship to open the ball with Mrs. Potts."

"I supposed it will be like that from now on," Adam said drearily. He sighed and rose from the bed, knowing the day wouldn't pass any quicker with him in it.

* * *

"Are you absolutely sure this time?" Belle's father asked, looking up from one of the music boxes he was working on.

"Yes, of course I'm sure," she replied, packing some sugar cookies she had baked the previous evening into a brown bag. "I want to see my friends again, I miss them terribly."

The office was closed the last few days leading up to Christmas, so Belle was able to take the bus from Canterbury after work yesterday to Chartham and stay with her father over Christmas.

Her father smiled, and he light of the oil lamp on the table danced off his glasses. "Well, I won't argue with that."

When the sun started to set, she and her father took their wagon up towards the big house. When the grand estate came into view, an uneasy feeling settled into Belle's stomach, but she pushed through it anyway.

Her father dropped her off at the servants' entrance and was greeted by an excited Lumiere. "Shouldn't you be in the middle of dinner right about now?" She asked after they shared a warm embrace. She almost didn't notice the stiflingly cold air.

The footman rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind her. "You sound just like Mrs. Potts," he said with a light laugh. "Dessert is just about to go up."

"And who's dining today?"

"His Lordship, Mr. Adam, Lady Susannah, and the Finleys. But all the aunts are due to come up tomorrow."

"Golly, sounds like a busy Christmas."

"Compared to last year, that's for sure."

"And how is Mr. Adam coping with it all?" She found herself asking, despite everything.

"Oh, you know him. Still skulking around in the day and quiet as ever during dinner."

Before they entered the servants' dining room, Belle stopped him. "And let me say congratulations."

The footman smiled brightly. "I knew she would tell you, she couldn't resist. I'm excited to see everyone's faces after we've announced it."

"Lumiere, the pudding is about to go cold!" They heard Mrs. Oliver's shouts from the kitchen and shared a laugh.

"That would be the Queen of Sheba," he smiled before dashing off towards the kitchens.

Belle made her way into the servants' dining room, and before anyone noticed her, she smiled at the memories she had here. Percy was playing a Christmas carol on the piano, and Plumette was sitting at the table, reading a magazine. Belle knocked on the entrance, and immediately Plumette rushed up towards her and embraced her tightly. "It's so good to see you again!"

"Thank you for inviting me."

Plumette waved it off. "You hardly need to be invited to come here."

Just then, Mrs. Potts came into the hall. "They'll be going through soon, so everything needs to be in tip-top shape in the foyer. Percy, when they're done go up and clean up the dining room, and – Belle!"

"It's very nice to see you too, Mrs. Potts," Belle laughed.

"Heavens, it's been so busy I've hardly noticed anything."

"I can help you with the preparations in the foyer, if you need it."

"Oh, would you?" The housekeeper seemed to relax her shoulders. "That would be so lovely. All the drinks still need to go up."

"Of course," Belle replied, even as Mrs. Potts started to move towards the pantry.

"Mr. Potts and Chip should be arriving within the hour…" she muttered to herself as she went.

"My, it's certainly gotten a lot busier here," Belle commented.

"Tell me about it," Percy said, approaching them. "His Lordship's been complaining to Cogsworth for months now about hiring new staff, especially with how often the Finleys visit."

"And not to mention the big Christmas get-together tomorrow. And New Year's."

"Is His Lordship staying here permanently, now?" Belle asked, a little nervously.

Plumette shook her head. "No, well, not really. He often zips up to London for a week or two each month."

"But around the wedding I'm sure Cogsworth will be forced to take on new staff, and of course a lady's maid…" Percy trailed off.

Belle felt a pang in her heart.  _Right, of course – the wedding._ She swallowed. "And when will the wedding be?"

"The spring next year, April, I think," Plumette replied.

_April. So close yet so far._

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by Cogsworth entering the room. "The gentlemen have just gone through to join the ladies, so if you could go up and staring clearing off the table."

Percy nodded and left towards the stairs.

"And Belle, it's good to see you again. I trust everything is going well." Cogsworth gave a slight nod towards her.

She nodded. "Yes, very well, thank you. I see things have gotten busier since I've left."

"Yes, but Theron remains a bastion of tradition."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

It was then when Mrs. Potts came back into the room, slightly-red faced. "Belle, do you mind bring the punch bowl upstairs to the foyer? Mrs. Oliver will show you were it is."

"Of course, Mrs. Potts." After retrieving the heavy glass bowl from the kitchens, she made her way up the narrow stairwell towards the main foyer of the estate. Jasper offered her a smile and a "welcome back" as he passed her, a tray of glasses in his hands. She fumbled with the door slightly but managed to make her way into the expansive foyer.

"Belle!"

The voice nearly made her drop the punch bowl. Adam was standing over the gramophone not ten feet from her.

"I didn't know you'd be coming," he said finally after a long silence.

Belle swallowed and set the bowl down on the long table below the stairs before she could drop it. She smoothed down her dress and cleared her throat. "Plumette invited me," she said simply. "I hope I'm not pushing in."

"Of course not. I'm glad you're here. Truly."

"It's very nice to see you again."

Another pause. "I, uh… I was just trying to pick out some music for this evening." He turned back to the gramophone, setting in a record. Suddenly, a slow ballad started to fill the room, and Adam held out his hand for her.

At first, Belle didn't realize what he meant by the gesture, but soon came to the realization that he was offering her a dance. Her eyes widened. "I hardly think that's appropriate, given the circumstances," she said.

Adam's hand didn't waver. "Just one dance. For old time's sake."

Belle gazed around the room and up towards the gallery. They were alone. Tentatively, she took his hand, and he led her through a slow dance.

"It's a good song," she said, breaking the long silence. She still hadn't fully allowed herself to relax in her partner's arms. Every second that passed was another closer to someone discovering them.

Adam smiled. "It's the same one from our dance last year."

Belle's eyes winded, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks.  _That's right,_ she realized as she listened to the lyrics.  _From a show that flopped._

"You know, we were a show that flopped." She smiled softly up at him, remembering their dance the year before.

"Oh God, Belle," Adam said suddenly, leaning closer. His mouth was just below her ear, she could feel his breath against her skin. "I'm so, so sorry. Do you know how sorry I am?"

"Please, you don't have to be. I understand the position your father put you in," she replied, as quiet as a whisper.

"No, but I am. I should have fought harder for you… I should have… And now I'm trapped in a loveless match because of it."

They inched ever closer towards each other, so close that Belle could see her reflection in his eyes.

"You know Mrs. Potts came to see me, to talk to me about everything," he continued.

"Really? When?" Belle asked.

"Oh, a while ago. Not long after you had left for Canterbury."

"And what did she say?"

"She said that she had been right about us from the beginning, because of course she was. But…" he paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "She also said that I had the power to make my own happiness, that I could run away and leave my life at Theron behind. That I could start a new life with you."

"What?"

"But I told her that I couldn't throw off Susannah like that. I couldn't leave my home or the staff like that… however much I may want to."

"Of course not." They inched closer still, until their lips were barely touching.

"Because I can't, can I?"

"Absolutely not." Before she could stop herself, they were kissing. His lips were warm and soft, and she felt him pull her closer by the waist. The world disappeared around her, as it always did when they were together. It was only them – the gentleman and the maid. Now the gentleman and the secretary.

"Hello?" At the sound of a voice, they bolted apart. Belle turned away from the stair case, blushing a furious red.  _Why had she done that? Why?_ It wasn't as if they were alone in the house, and now Adam's fiancée was descending the stairway towards them.

"Susannah, I thought you were still getting ready for the ball," Adam said, trying to hold an even tone.

"I was just seeing if I could be any help setting up," Lady Susannah replied.

"Yes…" Adam cleared his throat. "I'm sure if you talk to Mrs. Potts she'll find something for you to do."

Belle didn't hear any more of the conversation, because she was already bolting towards the service door, out of sight.

* * *

Hours later, after the servants' ball had been opened by Lord Villeneuve and Mrs. Potts and the kitchen staff were shooed to bed for an early start the next day, Adam was sitting at a small table with Susannah, admiring the joy of the staff around him.

He had, of course danced with Mrs. Potts (who had given him knowing looks after he'd snuck a glance at Belle dancing with Jasper), and Mrs. Oliver who had spent most of the time looking at her feet instead of her dancing partner. Then came the dance with Susannah, and then the marchioness of Finley. After a while, it seemed as if he had danced with everyone accept Belle. He kept sneaking careful glances at her, smiling as she twirled in Lumiere's arms and danced the foxtrot with a hallboy. Still, he couldn't bring himself to ask her for a dance, as he had done the year before. Not with his father watching, and not with Susannah watching, who he guessed had seen them together in the foyer earlier. She hadn't said anything, but he knew she'd seen them.

Adam didn't notice Susannah until she was getting up from her seat and ascending the main stair case. He cast another quick glance at Belle, and then followed his fiancée up the stairs and into her room.

"Are you alright?" Adam asked, shutting the door behind him.

Susannah didn't say anything for a long while. She remained sitting on the bed, her arms crossed above her chest, deep in thought.

"If you just need a lie down and I can leave you –" Adam started making his way to the door before stopping dead in his tracks.

"I see the way you look at her," she said solemnly, not looking up from the floor.

Adam turned back towards her. "Looking at who?"

"That maid who used to work here! I'm not some stupid, naïve little girl, you know. Ever since I first arrived here you haven't been able to your keep your eyes off her." She still didn't look at him. "Or your hands, for that matter," she added bitterly.

Adam's palms suddenly became sweaty.  _Of course_ Susannah would notice eventually. It was he who was naïve for thinking she would not say anything about it.

"What would you like me do to?" Adam asked, trying to keep his voice down. The whole house didn't need to privy to their arguments. "I love her, I have for a long time. And I can't… I can't love anyone else while she remains part of my life." He moved beside her on the bed. "I understand if you want to call off the engagement –"

"No," Susannah interrupted, and finally looked at him. "No, I don't want to call it off. I'm sure you're under as much pressure to marry as I am. I just…I just can't handle my parents constantly introducing me to men in hopes that we'll marry. I'm surprised they haven't found a way to introduce me to the Prince of Wales, yet."

"I feel the same," Adam replied truthfully. Because that was the reality. If he and Susannah broke off their engagement his father would just find another woman for him, and perhaps tarnish Belle's reputation anyway, out of spite.

"I'm willing to make a go of it, Adam," Susannah said. "Even though we don't feel the same way. We could learn to love each other."

Adam didn't say anything. It was true many couples did learn to love each other after marriage – the fortunate ones, at least – but his parents had not been one of those fortunate couples, and he didn't think he would be one of them either. Still, was it worse than the ramifications of breaking off the engagement? Surely not. As much as Adam wanted to be free from this engagement, he was still in the same position he had been months ago. His father still held the power to control Belle's future, he could get her sacked with one letter. And what would happen to him? Would his father force him into another arranged and loveless marriage? Would he let the estate go to the next heir, or Cousin Edward? Would he be disinherited, forced out of his own home? All the possibilities would be too much to bear. And even so – he couldn't face the possibility of ruining Belle's reputation. Adam considered it for a brief moment, running away with Belle and eloping. But his father had considerable influence, his wrath would find them. And what was more – they would have little money and practically no resources. However hard it was for him to accept it, there were almost no good outcomes of breaking off the engagement.

"I still stand by my love for Belle, and I understand if you resent me for it. I can't blame you for that. But even so, I think you're right. Breaking off the engagement would have too many negative consequences," he said, his words faltering slightly.

"It sounds like you have more serious reasons than I do."

Adam didn't feel like explaining and gave a simple nod. "My father holds Belle's future in the balance. That's the reason I'm doing this, sorry to say."

Susannah didn't ask for any further explanation, which he was grateful for. She took his hands in hers and moved closer to him on the bed. "You shouldn't live in fear of your father."

Adam scoffed. "You don't know my father."

"No, it seems I don't. But I do know that the best option for us is to keep going as we are. It may not seem so in our hearts, but in a world such as this we don't get much of a choice."

That was the problem, Adam thought. Shouldn't someone like him be able to make such a choice? Shouldn't anyone? Then again, not everyone could be as lucky as Edmund Lynn. He sighed, knowing Susannah was right. "Yes," he said. "We should probably be getting back downstairs. Don't want to let everything think the marriage is in trouble before it has begun." Even as he said the words he remained unsure of himself. He remained unsure of everything.


End file.
